


wait a minute

by Aenqa



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Dream SMP War, Dream Smp, Explicit Language, Family Dynamics, Friendship, Gen, It's gonna be sad, L'Manburg Election, Manipulative Relationship, Mentions of PTSD, Permanent Character Death, Schlatt is evil in this one, Traitor Toby Smith | Tubbo, Tubbo needs a hug, Violence, i'm telling you now, it's sad ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26604952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenqa/pseuds/Aenqa
Summary: The election has gone to shit, and Tommy needs to talk to Tubbo. But when he finally sees him, it's not what he was expecting. Not even a little.-An alternate Dream SMP timeline in which Tubbo finds himself firmly under Schlatt's control and things are going.... just, very poorly.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 418
Kudos: 1618
Collections: platonic sleepy bois fanfic, tubbo centric fan fiction





	1. let me finish

**Author's Note:**

> Edit 10/1: this started as a Tommy & Tubbo post-election one-shot and has sort of spiraled into an entire alternate storyline, in which I explore interesting, often darker, possible plot points that the main Dream SMP storyline will almost certainly not explore for a variety of reasons. Featuring: SBI family dynamics, manipulative Schlatt & traitor Tubbo, lots of Techno, and a healthy portion of angst, violence, & character death. And while my intention is not to make this a gratuitous suffer-fest, this story may not have a 100% happy ending. Please be aware!
> 
> The first chapter picks up immediately after the events of the L’Manburg election.
> 
> TW for abusive/manipulative behavior from Schlatt throughout.

They couldn’t risk more than a few messages, but they had managed to arrange a time and place. And now Tommy is carefully climbing out of the ravine, trying desperately not to let any spare rocks fall from under his feet so as not to wake Wilbur, who would probably shout at him for even considering the meeting.

 _“Tubbo betrayed you!”_ he had yelled just a few hours earlier, and Tommy had clenched his fists, stubbornly pushing back the tears he felt pricking at the back of his eyes. _“Get it through your skull!”_

But Tommy can’t accept that. Wilbur is acting paranoid, a haphazard bandage wrapped around his shoulder, his eyes sort of wild and guarded, and as much as Tommy trusts Wilbur – fully, implicitly – he can’t follow this order. Wilbur isn’t even letting Niki – _Niki! –_ into the coordinates of their new base, if you can even call it that. And he’s sent Techno to stay in a different room, one eye constantly on the person who, by all means, should be their most loyal friend and comrade – and maybe their only hope at fixing all this.

No. Wilbur might think that Tubbo’s gone bad, but Tommy can’t. Not yet.

It just… it just happened so fast.

Tommy had barely managed to wrap his head around the result of the elections before Schlatt’s voice was ringing in his ears, declaring him and Wilbur exiled. He felt like he was drifting out of his body, watching things happen in third person, as every single person in L’Manburg turned and pointed their weapons at the two of them, as though they had meant nothing.

As though _Wilbur and Tommy_ hadn’t been the ones _fighting_ for L’Manburg in the first place, as though they hadn’t shed their own blood, lost _everything –_

Right before the first arrow had hit Wilbur, piercing through his shoulder, Tommy made eye contact with Tubbo. His friend’s face was shocked and pale. He was frozen in his seat.

The last time he remembered Tubbo looking like that was when Tommy himself had fallen under Dream’s arrow, when Tubbo had ran to his side, his face ashen. Tubbo hadn’t left his side for days, had burned the blood-soaked uniform and made Tommy a new one by hand. 

No. Tommy can’t accept that Tubbo’s turned against them. Turned against _him._ Not so easily. It had happened too fast, too fast for Tubbo to react, and surely that is the answer, the missing piece of the otherwise inexplicable puzzle.

Tommy pushes through the low-hanging branches of the trees, his footsteps crunching over the forest foliage. The moon is just a silver splinter in the sky, barely lighting the woods enough for him to see, and every stumble over a rock or a branch makes him freeze, listening intently through the woods for a sign of danger. 

At least when they had fought Dream, they still had L’Manburg. The walls. The van. The stupid last-resort bunker. Places where they could feel safe.

Now Tommy feels different. Hunted.

It’s another thousand blocks or so before he reaches the coordinates they’ve deemed safe enough to meet. There’s a small lake hidden under a cliff, hedged in by birch trees. As Tommy pushes through the last line of trees, he sees a form there, crouched by the water. He has a horse with him, tied to a nearby tree.

“Tubbo!” he exclaims and rushes forward.

Tubbo jerks his head up at Tommy’s voice, but as Tommy goes to embrace his friend, Tubbo takes a few quick steps back, holding his hand up. Tommy freezes in confusion.

They stand there, silently, for a few seconds. Staring at each other.

“Did you come alone?” Tubbo asks, his voice wavering slightly.

“Of course,” Tommy says, slightly put off. “Did… did you?”

Tubbo nods. He looks uncomfortable.

And then Tommy realizes something. Tubbo isn’t wearing his L’Manburg uniform. He has a suit on, a dark suit, like – like Schlatt’s. Tommy’s stomach turns.

“What are you _wearing_?” he hisses.

Tubbo looks down at himself and winces. “Um… Schlatt wants us to wear it,” he says in his slow, careful way of speaking.

“And you’re just doing it?!”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Tubbo asks, glaring. “I don’t even know where you lot went!”

“You can tell him to fuck off,” Tommy says harshly. “I mean seriously, man, what’s going on? You don’t belong back there, in – in – I don’t even want to call it L’Manburg because it’s _not!”_

“It’s just Manburg now,” Tubbo mumbles.

That actually feels like a slap across the face. “What the – that _stupid_ – who the _hell_ does he think he is?!”

“He’s making a lot of changes,” Tubbo says, shifting from side to side. “I… I don’t really know what to _do,_ Tommy.”

“I’ll tell you what you do,” Tommy says with bravado. “You come with us, and we take our country back. Wilbur’s being a bit… hostile right now, but, Tubbo, come on, it’s _us._ It’s _you._ This is what we _do,_ right? You and me, us against the world!”

He expects Tubbo to – he doesn’t know, shout in agreement or jump up and down or something, or pull out his L’Manburg uniform and make an amazing transformation back into the Tubbo he knows.

But instead, his friend just hesitates, his face unsure. “What are you planning on doing?” he asks.

This gives Tommy pause. “We're working on that. Come on, man, we have Technoblade on our side, what else could we possibly need?”

It’s meant to be a joke, but Tubbo doesn’t laugh. “You’re going to go to war again?”

Tommy’s breath catches in his throat. “I mean… yeah, Tubbo, yeah. We’ve got to.”

Tubbo shakes his head, his forehead furrowing. “No, you don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

His friend looks to the side. He’s biting the inside of his cheek. “Schlatt said you could stay out there. Wherever you are. You can’t come back, but… he’s not going to hunt you down. You can just… you can just live somewhere else. There doesn’t _have_ to be another war.”

The words sting sharper than nettles. Tommy crosses his arms, feeling anger boil over in his chest like it does too often these days, but never at Tubbo - never before at Tubbo. “So you just want us to give up L’Manburg, is that it?" he snaps. "Give up our nation? Don’t you remember what it took to get our independence?” 

“Yes, I do, and I don’t want it to happen again!” Tubbo shouts, turning to glare at Tommy, and suddenly he realizes that Tubbo’s eyes are shining with tears, and that he’s on the verge of crying. His voice is thick with emotion as he continues, “I can’t… I can’t deal with that again! I can’t deal with, with the destruction and the betrayals and the – I don’t want to go to war again, Tommy, I just want to…”

Tubbo trails off, sniffling slightly, and Tommy stares at him in amazement.

“Tubbo…”

“Stop, just, stop,” Tubbo says, holding up a hand and wiping his nose on his other sleeve. They stand in silence for a long moment.

“I’m no good in war,” Tubbo eventually mumbles, and the sadness in his voice sends Tommy’s heart sinking. He drops his arms to his sides.

"That's just not true. You're a great fighter, nearly as good as me-" Tubbo shoots him a look - "...maybe even a little bit better."

“There's a difference between fighting and _war,_ " Tubbo says. "Last time, I… I hated it. I hated it _so_ much. I had to stand there, watching everyone get hurt. Watching _you_ get hurt. And you never listened to me, you just kept going and going, even when we had nothing left, even when it was all destroyed.”

“But we _won_ ,” Tommy argues. “None of us died. We came back and we rebuilt, and -,”

“And you’re going to destroy it all again,” Tubbo says miserably. “I don’t _want_ you to.”

“What else are we supposed to do?” Tommy asks in frustration.

“You can just stay away,” Tubbo says, taking a small step forward. “Build your own nation, somewhere else. Leave L – leave Manburg alone. No fighting. I’ll come with you, I can help. You, me, Wilbur, and Techno. And Niki. She wants to come, too. We’ll build somewhere new. It’ll be peaceful, and good.”

Tommy thinks it over for a second, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists. “I can’t accept that,” he says eventually, shaking his head. “I – I can’t accept that, Tubbo. That’s _our_ land, it’s _our_ country. Think of everything we’ve built together, everything that’s still there. I can’t just _start over._ I can’t just give up without a fight.”

Tubbo’s shoulders slump. His face is sad. “I know.”

“You know?” Tommy asks, and he’s not sure if he’s hopeful or despairing.

“I know,” Tubbo repeats, and he takes a step back. “You won’t let it go. You can’t.”

Tommy swallows.

“But I can’t come with you,” Tubbo says, and when he looks up Tommy’s heart falls at the combination of certainty and heartache in his eyes. “I can’t just stand there and watch you do it again, Tommy. If you're gonna go to war again, you're gonna do it without me.”

It feels like a whole piece of his chest has been chopped out in a single blow. “Tubbo,” he says, and he hears his voice break a little on the word but he can’t help it, “ _please,_ man -,”

“If you change your mind,” Tubbo says, and now Tommy sees that he is crying, actually crying, “th… then you know how to find me.”

Before Tommy can say anything else, Tubbo jumps onto his horse and they’re riding away. Towards Manburg. Towards Schlatt.

Tommy watches him go until he’s disappeared into the trees.

He walks back slowly to the ravine. When he gets there, he sits at the edge and looks at his feet.

It's right for him to be here. It's where he belongs.

But it isn't home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been meaning to write these good friends for a while! 
> 
> might continue because there's so much here, let me know if you want to see more!!


	2. i know you don't care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, since the tubbo betrayal is seemingly already fixed irl, this is officially an alternative storyline/possibility, but I have more ideas for this so I'll keep going for a bit! :) (check the updated tags PLS)
> 
> also, since I didn't give the obligatory disclaimer in chapter 1, I should say that this story is obviously based off the characters that real people are playing in the dream smp storyline - not the people themselves. schlatt, for example, is clearly not like this in real life. so please don't take any of this seriously! we're all just thinkin' about block men
> 
> Warning: this chapter has brief mentions of PTSD symptoms/panic attacks.

Sometimes, when Tubbo is looking at the cheery, built-out place L’Manburg has become, he blinks, and he suddenly sees it all engulfed in flames; sees that enormous crater, like a gash in the Earth, opening up beneath him again; sees the wall of water sweeping him up and punching his breath out of his chest, the silhouette of Dream standing like the Grim Reaper on the horizon.

And then he blinks again, and the vision is gone. But he still can’t breathe.

The flashbacks haven’t worsened since the war ended, but they haven’t gotten any better, either. He hasn’t told anyone except Niki, who found him curled up, once, near the boardwalk where Tommy was shot. She hadn’t said anything, just wrapped him up in a hug and let him cry on her shoulder, like she understood.

She had been spared the war, though, and Tubbo didn’t think he could talk to any of his brothers about it, even though they would probably be the only ones who could know what he was going through. The war had affected him differently, somehow. Wilbur had moved on almost immediately, pouring himself into politics; Fundy acted like the war had never even happened; and Tommy – Tommy had just gone looking for more conflict, silly skirmishes that often left him bruised, breathless and grinning. Tubbo even heard of Tommy antagonizing Dream – just for fun. The thought had sent a chill down his spine, frozen him to his place.

 _No_ , Tubbo’s always thought. _Tommy wouldn’t understand_.

That suspicion is confirmed, once and for all, when Tubbo meets Tommy at the lake. He can see the anger and resentment in his friend’s face, the sharp way he moves, the conviction in his voice. Nothing will stop him from doing this again. Going through the same motions. He had sort of hoped that he’d be able to convince him, but he should have known. Tommy never listens. Especially not to him.

So now, Tubbo urges his horse on a little faster through the forest, the wind drying his tears to his face, heading towards L’Manburg.

Once, during one of the darkest days of the war, Wilbur had grabbed Tubbo by the shoulders and told him, “L’Manburg isn’t a place, it’s _us._ L’Manburg is anywhere we’re together.”

If that were true, Wilbur would be perfectly content to live out in the wilderness somewhere, building a new place for him and Tommy and Tubbo. But he won't be. Because it isn’t true. It wasn’t true when he said it, and it isn’t true now.

L’Manberg _is_ a place. It’s a home they’ve built together. And as Tubbo reaches its borders, now open, stripped of the walls that used to protect them, and walks through the darkened, silent buildings, he thinks it’s much emptier than it’s ever been before. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t home.

He catches sight of George and Quackity walking together, partially obscured by the darkness, and before they disappear behind a building, George turns and makes eye contact with Tubbo, his expression unreadable. Tubbo shivers and keeps walking. He doesn’t understand George’s goal here. The archer just stands by, watching everything with faint amusement. Wouldn’t Dream be angry to know one of his friends is vying for power in L’Manberg, their enemy nation? Does Dream even know?

He’s thinking about Dream as he walks past the White House. That's when he hears it.

“Tubbo!” Schlatt’s unmistakable voice carries easily through the windows.

He stops still.

Schlatt appears in the door. His suit is immaculate, his smile cold. The curled horns that protrude from the top of his head are polished to a shine that matches his gelled-back hair.

“Come on in here, buddy,” Schlatt says, motioning him in.

Tubbo hesitates, but only for a moment. Schlatt is the president, after all. He follows him inside, where the house is empty except for the two of them. He stops near the doorway while Schlatt paces towards the opposite wall, running a hand over his beard.

“Where’d you go, Tubbo?” Schlatt eventually asks, turning on his heel. He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Tubbo’s blood runs slightly cold. “I, uh… y’know. Just went for a walk,” he stutters.

Schlatt nods and narrows his eyes. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna give you one more chance to tell the truth, Tubbo. I’m not angry with you now, but I’ll sure as hell _get_ angry if you keep lying. _Where’d you go_?”

His heart sinks. Schlatt already knows. “I… I went to go see Tommy,” Tubbo confesses, dropping his head slightly.

“Good,” Schlatt says. His shoes make clean tapping sounds on the floor as he walks closer. “I’m not an idiot, Tubbo. I know what my people are doing, okay? So just tell me. Why’d you do it?”

Tubbo hesitates, his voice catching in his throat. “He’s my friend. I just wanted to talk to him.”

There’s a cold moment of silence before Schlatt shrugs. “I can respect that.”

“Really?” Tubbo asks in slight surprise, looking up.

“Sure,” Schlatt says. His tone is flat. “Come on, bud, I’m not a _psychopath_. I asked you to keep them out of our borders, and you did. You did, right?”

“Right…”

“Then we shouldn't have a problem,” Schlatt says, leaning against the table. Despite the casualness of his actions, the forced friendliness in his tone, everything he does still seems dangerous. Like he’s constantly on the verge of doing something violent. “What did you talk about?”

Tubbo hesitates again, and the president’s gaze turns sharp. “Tell me the truth, Tubbo.”

“He wanted me to come with him,” Tubbo falters. Should he say more? He doesn’t want to say more, so he just stops there.

“Interesting,” Schlatt says. “And you came back?”

Tubbo’s heart sinks slowly in his chest. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

The question surprises Tubbo. He looks at Schlatt, who looks back evenly. There’s not exactly _malice_ in his gaze, but there isn’t _curiosity_ either. It’s something colder than either of those emotions, something more calculating.

“Why do you care?” Tubbo asks, shifting back a little.

Schlatt chuckles. “Tubbo, man. Come on," he says, and suddenly his voice is sort of plastic and sugary, like artificial sweetener. "I’m not like that Wilbur guy, okay? I’m not here to just… give you my dirty work and call you stupid and call it a day, alright? I care about what you think. You’re my _right hand man._ So just talk to me. Why’d you come back? What is it that you want out of all of this?”

Tubbo doesn’t know what to do with any of that; he feels speechless for a moment. But Schlatt’s asked him a question, so he swallows and just speaks honestly, because he doesn’t know what else to do. “I don’t want another war.”

Schlatt raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t want more destruction,” Tubbo continues, drawing himself up slightly. “We’ve worked hard to build this land, and I don’t want to see it destroyed. You were elected, fair and square, I suppose, and… and I’m not interested in fighting another losing battle in an endless war. That’s all I want.”

The president hums. He sits there, staring at Tubbo for a long, unnerving moment. Then he kind of chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “Huh. You know somethin’, Tubbo? I believe you. I actually believe you.”

“...oh?” Tubbo says nervously as Schlatt pushes away from the table, starting to pace back and forth again, one hand behind his back, one hand pressed over his mouth.

“Here I was thinkin’ I’d have to throw you in prison next to Niki for coming back to spy on me,” Schlatt muses, and Tubbo’s blood suddenly runs cold. “I mean, _why else_ would you be out there, consorting with the enemy? Why else would you have so readily abandoned your buddies? It was a little too easy for me to believe, to be honest. But now… now I get it. You love this country. Just like me.”

“Niki’s in _prison?”_ Tubbo asks disbelievingly, but Schlatt waves his head.

“Unimportant. What’s important is this.” He turns to face Tubbo. “You don't want a war? Easy. We don't have a war. Boom. Just like that.”

The fear in his chest is suddenly rivaled by hope. “Really?”

“I can tell it’s important to you, so yeah, really,” Schlatt says, placing a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder. “You're not just a lackey, right? You're my guy. You get input here.”

Tubbo feels so confused, and yet – and yet he can’t deny that Wilbur _never_ spoke to him like this. It never mattered what Tubbo thought with him – Wilbur had a vision of what was going to happen, and nobody could talk him out of it. It would take Tommy, usually, to just barrel his way through by sheer force of will.

Neither of them had ever… ever done _this._

Then again, neither of them had ever looked at Tubbo with the kind of dangerous edge in their eyes that was glinting in Schlatt’s gaze.

“Okay, um… thank you,” Tubbo responds slowly, and Schlatt pats him twice on the shoulder. “But…”

“But what?”

“What if they attack us?” Tubbo asks nervously. “How will you stop a war then?”

Schlatt sighs. “Good question. Well, there has to be an _incentive_ not to attack us, right?”

“Right…”

“Right,” Schlatt says, tapping a finger against his chin. Then a slow grin spreads across his face. “Right. There’s not enough cost for attacking. You fight, you die, you respawn. Whatever. No big deal.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Then I’ll just have to turn off respawns.”

The words feel like a bucket of cold water over Tubbo’s head. “What?”

“I’ll just turn off respawns,” Schlatt says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Stop people from fighting. You die, you die. Once and for all.”

 _No, no, no, no, no._ “I don’t – I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Tubbo stammers, panic seizing up in his chest, thinking about all the times they’ve all died, just for stupid reasons –

“It’s a _great_ idea,” Schlatt is saying, waving his hand. “You said you don’t want war, right? Okay. Permadeath. That's a great negative incentive. I’m getting sick of people killing each other over stupid bullshit, anyway.”

“Don’t you reckon Dream'll be angry?” Tubbo asks, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Tubbo,” Schlatt says, “have you seen Dream? Like, for _weeks_?”

“No, but -,”

“The man doesn’t care. And besides, we’re _independent,_ right? We can do whatever we want inside of our borders. And I’m the emperor now.” 

“President,” Tubbo corrects faintly.

“Whatever. I can do what I want. And I think turning respawns off is _exactly_ what Manburg needs." Schlatt's voice is almost manic now, shockingly cheerful despite the horrifying nature of what he's saying. "It’s an issue of national security, really, Tubbo. Hey – thanks for the idea. I always knew you were a good kid.” 

Tubbo can’t react, doesn’t know how; feels Schlatt grabbing his shoulder and guiding him towards the door. As they reach the doorway, Schlatt stops for a minute, and suddenly his fingers dig into Tubbor's shoulder tightly to the point where his grip is almost bruising, and Tubbo flinches as Schlatt leans down to speak directly into his ear, his voice quiet and dangerous:

“Oh. And if you ever go talk to those assholes again without telling me first? I won’t be as _generous_ as I was today. I have no tolerance for traitors. You hear me, Tubbo?”

Fear like a lightning bolt down his spine. Tubbo nods numbly and, faintly, he can hear the awful words leave his mouth.

He says, “yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love comments sm thank you to everyone who leaves comments <3


	3. but can you listen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck it. technochapter

See, the thing is, this is _not_ Technoblade’s job.

Like, when he gets word of what’s happening to Wilbur, he comes right away. No hesitation. And Wilbur’s going crazy and Tommy is being… Tommy, but Techno doesn’t really care either way. He just gets to work. He helps Wilbur build a little room and lets his friend crash on the one bed they have because he obviously needs sleep, and then he stays up all night planting potatoes and mining for materials.

It’s not really an emotional thing for Techno, see. There’s stuff you gotta do to survive, and Techno’s pretty damn good at that stuff. By the time Wilbur and Tommy are back up and running, Techno has a stack of diamonds and a chest full of baked potatoes ready for breakfast.

That’s what he does. That’s how he takes care of people.

But it’s pretty clear by Wilbur and Tommy’s shell-shocked expressions, the absolute apathy with which they pick at their breakfast, that they need a whole different type of care. And that? That is _not_ Technoblade’s forte.

He clears his throat as they sit around their makeshift table and tries to think of something to break the uncomfortable silence.

“So… where’s that one guy who’s always followin’ you around?” he asks awkwardly. “The little dude?”

It’s apparently the wrong thing to say, because Tommy kind of flinches, and Wilbur responds in a monotone. “Tubbo betrayed us.”

“Ah,” Techno says, and takes another bite of his potato. “Sorry about that.”

There’s a bit of water trickling somewhere in the ravine, and it drips loudly, once, twice.

“Is there anyone who… _didn’t_ betray you?” Techno asks, and Wilbur slams his plate down on the table.

“Actually, no, Techno, there isn’t. You wanna be next in line?” he nearly shouts, getting up from his seat and stalking away.

“Not particularly,” Techno says.

“Wilbur, calm down, mate,” Tommy says, casting the older man a look. “We still have _some_ people on our side.”

“Name _one_ person.”

“Fine, I’ll name two. There’s this one guy, Technoblade, dunno if you’ve heard of him. And then there’s Niki.”

At this, Wilbur stops still. His face falls, and he drops his head into his hands, groaning. “Niki.”

“Yeah, Niki,” Tommy says, stabbing his fork into his potato aggressively. “So are you going to keep throwing a temper tantrum, or are we going to do something to get her out of that shithole?”

 _Since when is_ Tommy _the mature one here?_ Techno thinks, but he knows he has to give Wilbur a break. The guy’s obviously been through a lot. He just went from being at the top of the ladder to not even having a rung to call his own. And Tommy honestly doesn’t seem to be doing that much better. He might be calmer, but _calm_ on Tommy just feels sort of… blank. The fire that usually underlies each of his words and actions feels muted.

Wilbur takes a deep breath, and then he comes back to the table. He still looks slightly haggard, but his expression is more serious as he takes his seat. “You’re right, Tommy. I’m letting my emotions get the better of me.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Techno says.

Wilbur looks pensive now, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the table. “We have to go back,” Wilbur eventually says, bringing his hands up to rub his face and scrub his fingers through his hair. “We have to try and get Niki.”

“Are we goin’ in swingin’, or is this more of a recon situation?” Techno asks, setting down his empty plate.

“Maybe both?” Wilbur says tiredly, pulling his dark brown jacket a little tighter around his shoulders. He’s not wearing his old revolutionary uniform anymore. Tommy’s the only one who’s still holding on to that. “I mean, with any luck, we’ll just be able to sneak Niki out. But we’ve all set our respawn point here, right? So if we need to use a little brute force, I don’t see the harm in trying.”

Techno and Tommy both nod, though Tommy seems much less enthused than usual at the thought of combat.

Wilbur doesn’t seem to notice. “Right, then. I’m gonna go craft up what I need. We’ll leave in an hour.”

He gets up and leaves, leaving Technoblade and Tommy sitting in silence. Tommy is staring blankly at the wooden table, his gaze kind of vacant. He’s clearly not okay. Goddamnit. Isn’t this supposed to be Wilbur’s… thing? Techno looks around, but Wilbur’s already gone.

“Well, uh…” he says. “Suppose I’ll get ready, too.”

As he stands, Tommy blinks and looks up at him. 

“Techno,” he says, and his voice kind of wavers. “Techno, man. You _are_ on our side, aren’t you? You… you won’t just jump ship if we start to lose, will you?”

Techno sighs heavily, sitting back down. He places a hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

“Tommy,” he says seriously. “I didn’t come here lookin’ for an easy win, alright? I came here for you and Wilbur. That’s it.”

Tommy takes a shaky breath and looks down at his hands.

“Now, I don’t fully understand everythin’ that’s happenin’, and honestly, I don’t really care. I don’t know anyone we’re fightin’ against, I don’t have any reason to like ‘em or trust ‘em. I’m here for you guys, okay?”

Tommy nods. “Okay.”

“Besides, how lame would it be for me to bully a two-person team with no gear on behalf of some _other_ tyrannical dictator? What do you think I am? A hired gun?” 

A little smile finally flickers across Tommy’s face. “Nah. You’re a man of principle.”

“Ex _act_ ly.”

“Thanks, Techno. And… sorry about Wil. Things have just gone seriously mental recently. It’s hard to know…” Tommy trails off, shrugging. “Well. Ever since Tubbo, it, it feels hard to know anything, really.”

“No need to apologize. I get it. Really. Now, come on already. Let’s get goin’.”

* * *

Techno’s only ever seen L’Manburg itself under the cover of darkness, so seeing it in the light of day is interesting, if strange. The three of them are standing on a nearby cliff, hidden among the trees. Wilbur is peering down at civilization through his binoculars, while Techno and Tommy hold on to their weapons, just in case. There are a lot of unfinished buildings, a huge oak road with scattered patchwork repairs, and a strange, snake-like cobblestone path dividing the sky into sections.

Tommy catches him staring at the latter and bumps him with his shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “Reverse coaster,” he says impressively, as though Techno should know what that means.

“Reverse coaster,” Techno just repeats slowly, and this seems to satisfy Tommy, who turns back to Wilbur.

“She’s not in her house,” Wilbur mutters, scanning the area. “I don’t see her walking around. God, it’s bizarre to see this place without the walls.”

Suddenly, something that sounds like a trumpet being played into a tin can starts echoing around the landscape.

“What’s that?” Techno asks, but he’s suddenly being pulled to the ground by Tommy, who hisses _“get down.”_

There’s a stage in their direct line of sight, sitting in the middle of L’Manburg, and as the three exiles crouch in the bushes, Techno sees a man he recognizes as Schlatt taking the stage, dressed in a finely-crafted suit. People are starting to filter into the stands. Techno doesn’t recognize all of them, but from the details Tommy and Wilbur have given him, he fills in a few names: Quackity and George are standing on stage, several feet behind Schlatt, and dressed in similar formalwear; Karl and a man with fox ears he knows is named Fundy are standing next to the stage, wielding weapons; Eret is standing off to the side, watching with crossed arms, while several other people fill in the stands.

And then Techno sees Tubbo taking the stage next to Schlatt, and Tommy inhales sharply. Tubbo is dressed in a suit, and he looks nervous. He’s standing right next to Schlatt, closer than anybody else on stage.

“Citizens of Manburg,” Schlatt says grandly into the microphone, which amplifies his voice and splits it into echoes. “Thank you for coming.” He looks around the stands, and his gaze narrows. He turns to Quackity and asks, “is the prisoner here?”

Quackity says something inaudible, and Schlatt nods. “Good. She should hear what I have to say.”

Suddenly there’s a commotion near the bottom of the podium, and Techno sees Ponk and Punz carrying in a woman with blonde hair by her arms.

Nihachu looks furious, her hair hanging in wild tangles, still wearing her L’Manburg uniform, though it’s dirty and rumpled. Her hands are tied behind her. She struggles against her restraints as Ponk and Punz lead her to her seat. It doesn’t look like they’re hurting her, but she’s clearly restrained, and she yanks her arms away from them the instant she’s sat down.

“God _fucking_ damn it,” Wilbur hisses, his hands clenching into the soft earth.

“That bastard,” Tommy mutters.

“Thank you all for coming,” Schlatt says again. Even from a distance, Techno can see a cold smile on his face. “It’s only been two days since we entered a magnificent new era, yet it’s felt like so much longer, hasn’t it? Our walls are down, our name has changed, our population has expanded. Manburg has never been stronger.”

“Fuck you,” Niki shouts, and Techno jolts in surprise at the fury in her voice.

“Please,” Schlatt says, holding a hand up.

“No, seriously, fuck you,” Niki shouts again. “You have no right to do this, no right to do any of this!” Techno’s never seen Nihachu so _angry,_ and he’s impressed by her ferocity, even as she’s tied up.

“Not everyone can see the same vision that I have for our country,” Schlatt continues, his voice drowning Niki’s out easily. “But I think the results speak for themselves.”

“What do we do, Wilbur?” Tommy whispers, but Wilbur just holds up a hand, saying, “wait.”

“Still,” Schlatt is saying, picking up the microphone and starting to walk back and forth across the stage. “There have been rumors. Rumors of dissidence. Rumors of _armed resistance_. Now, I don’t need to tell you, my loyal citizens, how disconcerting this is. We held a _democratic election,_ yet a peaceful transition of power is becoming less and less likely. The old rulers, they don’t know how to give up their power. They didn’t really want a democracy. They wanted a monarchy. And they don't like that the people spoke for themselves.”

To be honest, none of this is all that interesting to Technoblade, and he suspects it’s not that interesting to Schlatt, either. Schlatt is trying to get somewhere with this spiel, somewhere that actually matters. He unconsciously readjusts his grip on his axe as Schlatt continues:

“My right hand man, Tubbo, and I discussed this,” he says, clapping Tubbo on the shoulder, who kind of winces. “He came up with a great idea that I think will do wonders to discourage violence from wrecking our great country.”

And Techno’s suspicion is confirmed as Schlatt announces, “in the interest of national security, and starting immediately, respawns will be turned off within the borders of Manburg.”

 _A-ha_.

The announcement hangs in the air for one long moment before chaos breaks loose.

Tommy is jumping to his feet, shouting “what the FUCK -,” nearly in tandem with Niki, who’s also on her feet, screaming up at Schlatt, “you are stupid, STUPID, don’t you know what this will do? Tubbo, _how could you?!”_

Her words make Tubbo shrink in his suit, but he doesn’t move from Schlatt’s side. Techno notices that some of Schlatt’s own men, especially Karl and Fundy, look a little nervous, too, as they glance up towards their leader with uncertainty.

“All you have to do is _not_ be a violent anarchist,” Schlatt yells at Niki through the microphone, drowning her out. “Is that really so hard for you?”

“Schlatt,” Techno can hear Quackity saying, approaching the mic, “are you sure this is a good idea -?”

“Of course it’s a good idea,” Schlatt snaps, and Quackity takes a step back. “I’m sick of people running around, thinking they can do whatever the fuck they want. We have laws, you know, and the laws need to be _respected._ And if injury, and prison, and exile isn’t enough to stop them? Then clearly the stakes need to be raised. That simple.”

“Wilbur, what do we do?” Tommy is saying, his voice rising in panic. “What do we _do,_ Wilbur?!”

“Tommy -,” Wilbur hisses, but Schlatt is speaking again.

“Any questions about this? Anyone?”

The crowd is murmuring, but nobody speaks up.

Then Schlatt turns and looks directly at where the three exiles are hidden in the trees.

“Any questions, _Wilbur?”_

“Okay,” Techno says, standing up. “Time to go.”

But Tommy, as usual, doesn’t listen.

“FUCK YOU, YOU MEGALOMANIAC BASTARD!” he screams down the hill, stalking a few steps forward. “You think we’re scared of you? HUH? You think we’re scared of some dipshit in a tuxedo?”

“You should be, Tommy,” Schlatt's voice echoes coldly, and suddenly there are about a dozen bows pointed directly at them. All of Schlatt’s little soldiers. And some of the civilians, too. “You should be.”

“Tommy, get down!” Wilbur shouts, and pulls Tommy back into the trees just as a shower of arrows rain down on the hill. Techno equips his shield, stepping in front of the other two, but luckily, the archers are just out of range.

“Wilbur!” Niki cries, but as she tries to run towards them, Punz and Ponk grab her again, preventing her from escaping.

“If you assholes won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll listen to your old friend,” Schlatt says, and then he hands the microphone to Tubbo, who freezes.

“Tubbo?” Techno hears Tommy whisper behind him.

“Tommy?” Tubbo says hesitantly into the mic. “I don’t want to fight you. B – but I will. If you attack us. Just – just stay away, alright? Just stay away from us!”

Tommy makes a kind of choked sound as Schlatt grabs the microphone back. “You heard him, Tommy. If any of you come back here again, you’re dead. Permanently.”

If Tubbo says anything else, they don’t hear it. Because Techno is grabbing the shell-shocked Wilbur and Tommy by their arms and dragging them deeper into the forest, hoping his sense of direction works better on the way back than it did on their way here. “I said _time to go_.”

“We can’t just leave Niki there!” Wilbur shouts, trying to pull away from his grip.

“We’re no good to her dead,” Techno says flatly, pushing on. “We’re regroupin’ and restrategizin’ and comin’ back _prepared_.”

Tommy is just silent, stumbling after Techno, his face crestfallen.

The gears in Techno’s head are spinning frantically, but there’s one quote at the top of his mind. _He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight._

This is most definitely _not_ the time to fight.

* * *

Permadeath’s nothing to fuck around with. Technoblade really only knows of a few people who have ever met that fate, and he certainly doesn’t intend to be one of them.

He gets Wilbur and Tommy home safely and gives them tasks, because clearly they need it. Soon, Wilbur is busy stripmining, while Tommy follows Techno to put together a cow farm.

They’re putting up fences when Tommy finally breaks his silence.

“We’re still going to win, aren’t we, Technoblade?” he asks. “We have to, right? We have you on our side. And Technoblade never dies.”

When Techno looks at him, Tommy’s face is desperate, yet determined. His hands are shaking as they grip onto the stakes of the fence.

Techno isn’t stupid. He’s died plenty of times before, and there’s nothing stopping him from dying again. All it takes is one well-aimed arrow, one poorly-blocked strike.

But he knows what he represents to Tommy. What he’s always represented to Tommy. He’s a symbol of strength. In this moment, he’s probably their only hope.

And if that’s what Tommy needs him to be in order to get through this, then that’s what he’ll be.

“Exactly,” he says, and he tries to sound as confident as he possibly can. Tommy looks up at him with wide, grateful eyes. “And neither will you.”

He'll just have to hope it's a promise he can keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments used as fuel to keep my quaint mountain cottage warm at night, please comment or i shall freeze . . .


	4. i came committed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit gets dark in this one folks! buckle up!

Oh God. Oh God.

Tommy hates him. Wilbur hates him. Niki hates him.

Everybody hates him.

Tubbo’s still standing on the podium, feeling blank inside, feeling like he’s sinking low enough to hit the Nether. Niki is being dragged back to wherever they’re keeping her. George and Quackity are muttering to each other as they leave. Tubbo’s just standing next to Schlatt, staring off into space, totally numb.

Schlatt dismisses the crowd, and then his hand falls heavily on Tubbo’s shoulder.

“You did good, Tubbo,” Schlatt says, and Tubbo blinks, the words cutting through the haze in his head. “You did real good. I’m proud of you.”

_Proud?_

Tubbo can’t deny that he’s grateful for the words. Grateful to know that someone, at least, is on his side. It helps him feel anchored, helps him feel like, maybe, he’s not messing everything up.

He picked Schlatt’s side, right? He picked Manburg. And Schlatt is proud of him.

Maybe… that’s enough?

It’s enough, at least, for Tubbo to get himself back to his house, though the instant his door shuts, his back hits the door and he slides to the ground, hugging his legs to his chest and burying his face in his knees. He’s shaking, and his mind keeps replaying the scene over and over again.

Tommy, screaming at Schlatt, his face a mask of fury.

And for a second, that rage focused on Tubbo, equally as viciously.

It was Tubbo’s idea, after all. Well – it had been Schlatt’s decision to turn off respawns, but Tubbo had been the one to want to stop the fighting. It was Tubbo’s fault this was happening.

Tubbo shivers and hugs himself a little tighter.

He just has to hope this will work. He just doesn’t want any more fighting… any more destruction. He just wants to keep everyone safe.

A knock behind him shocks him out of his thoughts, and he clambers to his feet, trying to shake himself back to normal.

“Who is it?” he calls out nervously.

“Hey, Tubbo, open up.” It’s Quackity’s voice, which surprises him.

Tubbo hesitates for a moment before opening the door, and Quackity and George suddenly push their way in, closing the door behind them.

“Um – hello,” Tubbo says, crinkling his brow.

“Hey, Tubbo,” Quackity says, giving him a fake smile, as George walks around the room quietly, surveying the walls. “Weird day today, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Tubbo says, feeling put off. “Wh… what do you guys want?”

“We just wanted to talk to you, buddy,” Quackity says, tilting his head. “Wanted to see how you’re feeling.”

Tubbo shifts from side to side, not really saying anything.

“Seems like you and Schlatt have gotten pretty close, huh?” Quackity says, and now George comes to stand next to him, his eyes obscured by his glasses. They both stand taller than Tubbo, and tower over him slightly. “What’s your title these days, again?”

“I, uh, I don’t really know,” Tubbo stammers, taking a half-step backwards. “I think he said secretary of state?”

“He also said right hand man,” Quackity says, raising an eyebrow. “But, you know. That’s _kinda_ supposed to be me. As the vice president and all.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry man, I don’t really know,” Tubbo says, his heart picking up in his chest.

Quackity sighs and presses his lips into a thin line. “Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo. What are we gonna do with you?”

And then suddenly George has a sword equipped, a Netherite sword, glowing softly with enchantments. Tubbo takes a startled step back and Quackity grabs his arm, stopping him. “You’ve gotta back off, Tubbo. This respawn thing? Not okay. We know you’re just gonna go running back to Tommy as soon as shit hits the fan, just like you always do. So why don’t you just leave the important stuff to the _adults_ and keep your stupid ideas to yourself?”

And that? That pisses Tubbo off.

“Shut up,” he says, yanking his arm out of Quackity’s grip. “You don’t know anything about me. You’ve – you’ve barely even _spoken_ to me.”

“I don’t need to speak to you to know a pawn when I see one,” Quackity says.

“I am _not_ a pawn,” Tubbo shouts, anger rising in his chest, and he pulls out his own sword, and his shield as well. He takes a step forward and is pleased to see Quackity take a quick step back. “J - just because you’re mad that Schlatt trusts me _more_ than you doesn’t give you a right to threaten me in my own house!”

A dangerous look flickers across Quackity’s face, and he pulls out his sword in a quick motion. “Hey, George. You think respawns have been turned off yet?”

“Might as well try it out,” George says with a shrug, and then he takes a swing for Tubbo’s head.

Tubbo ducks the blow and takes off, just barely running past the other two as Quackity swings for his leg and misses. He sprints up the stairs, hearing footsteps only a few feet behind him, and grabs a chest and flings it down the stairs in a blind panic, hearing it make impact with someone with a crash, giving him a few extra seconds of space.

He runs to the opposite end of the upper floor and pulls out his bow, firing off a few arrows towards the stairs in quick succession. One of his arrows misses someone's head by an inch and he hears Quackity shout in surprise, and sudden terror paralyzes him as he remembers.

_This isn’t a game anymore. This is for real._

“You little shit!” Quackity screams up the stairs, and he rushes the upper floor, holding his shield up to block Tubbo’s arrows.

“Leave me alone!” Tubbo cries. “I don’t want to do this!”

An arrow suddenly whizzes past his ear and Tubbo jerks away, seeing George peeking just over the stairs, a bow in hand. Tubbo yanks his shield up and it catches another arrow, which slams into the wood, still burning with enchanted fire.

“Come here, Tubbo,” Quackity calls menacingly, taking a few steps forward, his sword leveled at him.

Tubbo backs up until he hits the wall, looking frantically for something, _anything,_ to help him.

“Wilbur isn’t here to save you this time!”

“ _SHUT UP_ ,” Tubbo screams, and smashes his elbow through the window.

The glass shatters and he feels a shard cut his arm, but he doesn’t have time to react. He just throws himself out of the window, grabbing frantically for his bucket, but finding it empty –

Tubbo hits the ground _hard,_ his breath punched out of his chest, rolling a few feet before coming to rest at the edge of the wooden path. For a long moment, he’s too stunned to move, and then he tears in a breath, feeling pain spike up and down his shoulder and chest.

“Get him!” Quackity shouts and Tubbo has to pull his shield up again as George shoots one, two, three more arrows, embedding themselves into his shield, into the ground just inches from his feet –

“What the FUCK is going on here?” comes a shout, and Tubbo feels blind relief flood him as Schlatt appears, standing in between Tubbo and his attackers. Tubbo realizes that Schlatt is wearing Netherite armor. Enchanted. A sword in hand.

Quackity and George freeze, their hands still poised incriminatingly on their weapons.

“Somebody better tell me what the hell is happening before I lose my shit,” Schlatt growls.

“Tubbo attacked us,” Quackity says in a sort of whine.

Schlatt turns to look at Tubbo. Tubbo gasps for breath as he desperately shakes his head, unable to speak.

“Somehow I find that hard to believe,” Schlatt says, turning back towards the house. “Get down here, _now.”_

For a second, it feels like Quackity and George are weighing their options, wondering if the two of them can take on Schlatt in a fight. But then George drops his bow and Quackity sighs in frustration, and they disappear from the window, reappearing in the doorway.

Schlatt turns to Tubbo and offers him a hand. Tubbo takes it gratefully, but when Schlatt pulls him up, he can’t help but grunt at the vicious pain that immediately stabs through his chest. He wonders in vague panic if he’s broken a rib, but before he can freak out, Schlatt hands him a potion and says, “drink.”

Tubbo does without thinking, and feels the healing potion twist through him, dissolving the hurt wherever it finds it and finally letting him take a deep breath.

“Thank you,” he says hoarsely, and Schlatt nods curtly.

“You assholes have a lot of explaining to do,” he says, turning back to Quackity and George, whose expressions are dark and guarded.

“We had a private disagreement,” Quackity says, glaring at Tubbo, who glares back. “We were handling it.”

“You’re supposed to be a part of my goddamn government, and you’re attacking my right hand man?” Schlatt growls. “I think you’re overestimating the security of your position.”

Quackity looks at him sharply. “We made a _deal_ , Schlatt. You’re gonna throw that away for Tommy’s stupid little sidekick?”

“I’m nobody’s sidekick,” Tubbo shouts, rage piercing through him. All these people talking about him like he’s not even there, like he’s not his own _goddamn person._ Even Tommy had just assumed Tubbo would come right along with him, like Tubbo couldn’t act independently, couldn’t make his _own_ decisions. It was _really_ starting to piss him off.

“I don’t give a shit about our deal, Quackity,” Schlatt says quietly, taking a menacing step forward. “I care about who’s following my orders. And so far, you’re making a bad impression.”

“Need I remind you, it was _my votes_ that put you in power, Schlatt,” Quackity hisses, stepping forward to meet him. “And maybe George and I should change our mind about letting you take the presidency.”

Schlatt chuckles. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Quackity says, and George pulls out his bow.

“Change your mind about this,” Schlatt says, and before Tubbo can even blink, Schlatt is running his sword through Quackity’s chest.

Quackity makes a strange, awful cry, stumbling backwards, the hilt of Schlatt’s sword jutting out from his chest. George makes a quick movement with his bow but Schlatt is bigger and faster than him and he just overpowers George in a lightning-fast movement, grabbing his bow and breaking it over his knee, shoving George back as Quackity falls to his knees, his face frozen in shock. Schlatt turns around and grabs the hilt of his sword, pulling it from Quackity’s chest, and Quackity collapses to the ground.

“You next,” Schlatt hisses, moving towards George.

But George pulls up a shield and talks rapidly before Schlatt can reach him. “You kill me and Dream won’t rest until you’re dead, Schlatt,” he says, stumbling backwards. “Are you really ready for that?”

This actually makes Schlatt hesitate, and after a moment he drops his sword to his side, letting George turn and run away.

Tubbo stands totally still, his mouth hanging open, his face frozen in shock. He stares at Quackity’s body as blood pools out and stains the oak path.

Then, with a jolt of horror in his stomach, he sees Quackity moving, his hand reaching out towards Tubbo.

“He’s still alive,” he mumbles, and suddenly Schlatt is standing next to him –

and he’s putting his sword in Tubbo’s hand.

“Finish it,” Schlatt says calmly.

Tubbo jerks his head towards Schlatt wildly. “What?”

“He was gonna kill you,” Schlatt shrugs.

Tubbo’s world spins as he turns back towards Quackity, whose shoulders hitch slightly with breath.

“You gotta send ‘em a message, kiddo,” Schlatt says, and his words seem to echo in Tubbo’s head. “Let ‘em know you won’t be fucked with.”

And to be honest? Tubbo _is_ getting sick of it. He’s sick of people underestimating him. He’s sick of people thinking they can just push him around. He's sick of people seeing him as a _pawn._

It’s really pretty easy, all things considered. He’s done it a hundred times before.

But this time, when he stabs the sword through Quackity’s back, the man doesn’t disappear. He doesn’t respawn. He just goes terribly still.

He’s just dead.

_Quackity was slain by Tubbo_._

“Good job, kid,” Schlatt says approvingly, and Tubbo blinks up at him. The president has blood on his hands and his face, just like Tubbo. He ruffles Tubbo’s hair and a bit of blood sticks to his head, making him shiver. “Now they know what's up.”

And it makes Tubbo feel good. It… it makes him feel powerful.

It sends a deep, cold shiver down to the center of his being that doesn't fade away.

They won’t underestimate him ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your comments last chapter ^_^ even short comments are truly appreciated!


	5. guess i overdid it

They’re not quite sure how the rules work. They’re not sure if the permadeath state is something that extends beyond the formal boundaries of L’Manburg, or if they’re in danger way out in their wilderness base. And none of them want to be the first to test the theory.

So when Wilbur accidentally loses his footing while the three of them are collecting wood and takes a hard fall down the ravine, Tommy can’t help the panicked “ _NO!”_ that suddenly rips from his throat.

But only a moment later, Wilbur rushes out of their base, waving his arms. “I’m here! I’m here,” he shouts up the stone walls, and Tommy and Techno both let out a held breath in relief as he climbs back up.

Schlatt doesn’t have power everywhere; only within the boundaries of his independent country. So as long as they stay out of L’Manburg, they’re safe.

Of course, _inside_ L’Manburg is where they’re trying to _get._

This is a tactical puzzle that Wilbur and Techno spend some time discussing. Tommy follows along, of course, and makes suggestions here and there, but he feels like he’s missing a big piece of the picture that he waits until dinner to bring up, once they’ve finished their tasks for the day.

Permadeath.

“I’ve only heard of a few regions who actually use that option,” Techno says as they dig into their sixth consecutive meal consisting solely of baked potatoes. The three of them are sat around a campfire they lit for warmth, the smoke snaking up the ravine and dissipating by the time it reaches the top of the trees. “And where they do, people tend to hear about it. And, y'know. Stay far, _far_ away.”

“But what does it actually _mean_?” Tommy asks, leaning forward with intense interest. He’s never encountered anything like this before. Apparently, his two compatriots have. 

“Think about what respawning is like,” Wilbur says, “then take out the part where you respawn.”

It sends a little shiver down Tommy’s spine. “So you just stay in that quiet, empty place… forever?”

The other two both shrug. “Nobody really knows what it’s like, because nobody’s ever come back,” Techno says.

“Ever?”

“Ever. That’s why it’s called permadeath.”

Tommy stares into the fire, watching it lick up a few new twigs. “So that’s what happened to Quackity?”

It's a rhetorical question, really, and there's a very long moment where the three of them sit in a tense quiet. 

They had all seen the message last night. At first, Tommy hadn’t been able to believe it. He still wasn’t sure he’d wrapped his head around it.

Could it have been an accident? Surely not, right? Surely they’d all be very careful, knowing the consequences.

And it wasn’t _fell from a high place._ It wasn’t anything indirect.

It was _slain by Tubbo._

“That is some scary shit, not gonna lie,” Tommy eventually breaks the silence, shaking his head.

“You know who we might want to call?” Wilbur says to Techno, but Techno looks immediately uncertain.

“I don’t know, man. You really wanna drag him into this?”

“Don’t you think he’d want to help?”

“You gonna tell me who you’re talking about?” Tommy says in faint irritation. He hates the way Wilbur and Techno sometimes seem able to read each other's minds, leaving him firmly out of the loop.

Techno grabs a stick and stokes the fire. “He’s talkin’ about Phil.”

“Oh, Phil,” Tommy says, surprised. “Yeah, Wilbur, I dunno… war isn’t exactly Phil’s vibe.”

“I know that,” Wilbur says, “but he’s been living in a permadeath region for years.”

“Yes, let’s call him in so he can give us all of his cool tips and tricks, the main one bein’ _don’t die_ ,” Techno says dryly.

“I’ll just send him a message explaining the situation and see if he’ll give us any advice,” Wilbur says definitively, standing and pacing away towards their room. “He doesn’t have to come if he doesn’t want to.”

But Techno and Tommy glance at each other over the campfire meaningfully. They both know that if Wilbur messages Phil, he’ll come. Immediately. Just like Techno did.

“Tell him to bring elytra,” Techno calls after Wilbur’s retreating back. Their campfire crackles and pops, sending white flakes of ash spiraling into the air.

“You think you could do it, Big T?” Tommy asks grimly.

“I think I asked you not to call me that.”

“But do you think you could?”

“Do what?”

“Kill someone in permadeath.”

Techno stokes the fire again. The flickering light makes his pink, shoulder-length hair look orange, his plain clothes dirty from the day’s activities. “I could. If I had to. But I wouldn’t, if I didn’t.”

Tommy nods. His fingers tap agitatedly against his knee, which he’s struggling to keep from bouncing. “You think Tubbo had to?”

He can tell the question makes Techno uncomfortable, which makes him feel bad. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Techno exhales, placing the poker down. “Tommy, seems like you know this kid best. What do _you_ think?”

But yeah, see, that’s kind of the problem, is Tommy isn’t so sure he _does_ know Tubbo all that well anymore.

Tommy shrugs and Techno sighs, rising slowly to his feet and walking to join Wilbur, leaving Tommy to stare into the flickering firelight, absorbed in his thoughts.

* * *

He and Tubbo had made a promise to each other, once.

It wasn’t the sort of thing they usually did. But it was something that took hold of them one night, shortly after L’Manburg had gained its independence, when the future was wide-open and as bright as diamonds.

Tommy remembers it with vivid detail. The two of them had been sitting under a tree together, exhausted after a hard day’s work rebuilding their home under the glare of the summer sun. The evening had brought a cool breeze, and fireflies danced over the flowers Tubbo had planted, and they had won, and their country was free.

Tubbo had suddenly turned towards Tommy, kneeling in the grass, his hands resting on his legs and clenched into fists.

“This is our home, Tommy,” Tubbo said, his eyes wide and focused on his friend. His voice was full of quiet amazement. “We fought for this.”

Tommy had sat up from where he lounged against the tree and nodded, a proud grin breaking across his face. “We fuckin’ did it, mate. You and me.”

“You and me,” Tubbo said with an astonished smile. Then, suddenly, he grabbed for Tommy’s hand, clasping it between his own with an earnestness that sort of surprised Tommy. “You and me, Tommy. Promise.”

It had taken Tommy slightly aback at first, but as he looked at how Tubbo’s face had gone serious, he realized that he knew exactly what he meant. They were locked together now, two sides of the same coin. They had gone through hell with each other. They were best friends. They always would be.

He grabbed Tubbo’s hand and said, “Promise.”

It’s a memory that plays on a loop in Tommy’s head as he lays sleeplessly in his bed that night, staring up at the too-close cobblestone ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head. It's a thought that opens up an empty hole in his chest, threatening to expand and devour him whole.

It’s hard to imagine a future without Tubbo, just being there, keeping him steady, keeping him honest. Telling him when to stop being a dumbass, or joining in and amplifying the madness. Forcing him to care about stupid things like bees and trees and shit when Tommy’s too embarrassed to admit he already does.

Tommy isn’t sure if that Tubbo doesn’t exist anymore, or if he does and he's just caught in some horrible trap, or if that Tubbo never actually existed at all. If there was really a whole side to his friend that he’d never been able to see.

In the few hours of sleep he manages to find, he dreams of iron and blood, and of that cold, empty void he falls into before a respawn, where the seconds feel like hours.

* * *

They start training the next day.

Wilbur puts up an enormous resistance to training at first. He just wants to gear up and rush in to get Niki. But Techno puts his foot down.

“I wouldn’t take you into _any_ permadeath zone without trainin’ you up, Wilbur, and _especially_ not one where you’re literally prohibited by death,” he says flatly. He’s led them to a small clearing in the woods, safely removed from the ravine, where they each stand with iron swords and shields.

“Wilbur, this is a good idea,” Tommy says, and he can’t deny that a part of him is itching to actually learn from the Blade, a constant request of his that Techno’s never actually indulged.

“I just don’t know what you’ll be able to teach me in a few days that will make a tangible impact,” Wilbur mutters, although he dutifully takes position across from Techno.

“I’m gonna teach you how to fight like me, instead of like you,” Techno says, swinging his blade in an easy arc through the air and assuming his stance.

“And what’s the difference?”

“You fight for fightin’s sake. I fight to win,” Techno says, and then they begin.

Tommy watches in awe at the deliberate and seemingly effortless way Technoblade spars, his lanky limbs suddenly moving with the sort of deadly efficiency that he’s known for across the many worlds. Wilbur successfully parries a few of his hits, but when Techno twists his sword and disarms Wilbur easily, he throws his hands up in the air in frustration.

“You give up too easily,” Techno says, stepping back. “It’s like you’re assumin’ your enemy has good intentions.”

Wilbur looks slightly irritated, but he nods and picks up his sword. 

“Me next, Technoblade,” Tommy says, jumping to his feet, and Techno motions him forward.

Tommy doesn’t wait for Techno to make the first move. The instant they’re both in position, he takes the offensive, pushing forward aggressively and striking once, twice against Techno’s parries. For a second he thinks he sees Techno falter, caught slightly by surprise, but if it’s true, the moment doesn’t last long; after Tommy makes a particularly dangerous lunge, Techno steps into the gap and body-checks him, sending him sprawling.

Techno’s sword is at Tommy’s neck and Tommy gapes up at him.

“You’re overdoin’ it,” Techno says evenly, then takes a step back. “You don’t even know how I fight yet. You gotta be more patient.”

“Yeah, well, patience is not exactly my strong suit,” Tommy mumbles, then takes Techno’s hand and pulls himself up.

The three of them spar for hours in the little clearing, and by the end of it Tommy’s body and pride are both slightly bruised, but he feels he has improved at least a little. Techno gives short, accurate assessments of his flaws, and Tommy tries to internalize them as much as possible. By the end of the day, he even wins a round against Techno, using their slight height difference to his advantage as he ducks under one of Techno’s blows and darts in for a strike before the man can react. Techno hits the ground with a short _oof_ and Tommy holds out his sword.

Techno looks surprised, but a little smile spreads across his face, and he nods as Tommy pulls him up. “Now _that's_ what I’m talkin’ about.”

Tommy grins back.

* * *

It’s raining the next day, so they don’t train. Tommy and Wilbur spend some time mining and putting enchantments on their armor. Techno disappears into the Nether for hours and returns with enough Netherite ingots for a small army.

“Did you see anyone in there?” Wilbur asks as Tommy turns an ingot over in his hands, feeling the strange, warm energy that emanates from the metal.

“Eret, briefly,” Techno says, and Tommy flinches. “But he didn’t seem very interested in me.”

“Bastard,” Tommy mutters on reflex.

“He doesn’t seem loyal to Schlatt,” Techno says with a shrug. “He could be useful.”

“Two betrayals don’t make a non-betrayal,” Tommy says loudly.

Wilbur laughs a little, even though it's not especially funny, and for a moment, it’s almost like everything is normal.

* * *

They train the next day. By the end of it, Tommy is managing to beat Techno every tenth round or so. Wilbur isn’t quite as good, but he’s defending himself for longer and gets a few solid hits in. Still, Tommy can see the frustration on his face as they trudge back towards the ravine. He's growing impatient, that much is obvious.

As they sit around their campfire that night, Wilbur clears his throat.

“I got message back from Phil. He’ll be here by tomorrow.”

Tommy exhales, and Techno nods slowly.

“I think tomorrow is the day we get Niki,” Wilbur says, his eyebrows knitted together. He looks back and forth between the other two. “I know we need to be careful, but I can’t stand knowing she’s just sitting there in jail. Who knows how they might be treating her.”

“I’m with you, Wilbur,” Tommy says resolutely. “We can’t just hide in this ravine forever like a bunch of cave spiders. We need to get Niki. And Schlatt needs to know we’re not gonna sit by and let him do this to us.”

“If Phil gets here, it’ll make things much easier,” Techno acknowledges. “They won’t be expectin’ him, or his elytra.”

“Then it’s decided,” Wilbur says.

Suddenly, a rock skitters down the side of the ravine, clattering loudly as it hits the floor of their little cave.

The three exiles freeze around the campfire.

There are footsteps crunching at the top of the ravine. A few more loose rocks fall down the side of the cliff.

Tommy and Techno jump to their feet, grabbing their swords, while Wilbur equips his shield.

“Who’s up there?” he calls, as the three of them scan their vision across the top of the ravine. “Show yourself!”

Tommy’s heart thumps loudly in his chest. He sees someone’s head poke over the side of the cliff. It’s dark, and he can barely see their face.

“Tubbo?” he whispers hopefully.

“Wilbur?” comes a trembling voice, but it isn't Tubbo.

It’s Niki.

It’s _Niki,_ and as Tommy’s eyes adjust, he sees that her face is dirty and slightly bruised, her hair hanging in tangled strands, but she’s here, she’s _alive,_ and Wilbur is shouting her name, scrambling up the ravine to meet her as Tommy and Techno stare, numbly, at the sight.

“What the heck just happened?” Techno asks in a faint monotone, and Tommy shakes his head, feeling a light-headed rush of euphoria for the first time in what feels like weeks as he watches Wilbur and Niki climb carefully down the side of the cliff, clinging to each other. 

“I dunno," he says in a low voice, "but I reckon it's something amazing.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o
> 
> thanks so much for reading so far! & thank you for your comments <3 
> 
> i just realized I've been publishing this story during "wholesome week" despite the fact that this is decidedly NOT A VERY WHOLESOME STORY . . . my bad


	6. wore my heart out on a chain

_Four days ago _

“ _Wilbur!”_ Niki cries, tugging against the hands of people she thought were her friends.

But Wilbur disappears into the woods, chased away by a volley of arrows.

Desperately, Niki looks up to the platform, where Schlatt stands triumphantly, a cruel grin on his face. And Tubbo – Tubbo is there, too, his face frozen and pale.

“Tubbo?” she whispers, and sees him jerk his head towards her, his eyes wide.

“Are you ready to join civilized society again, Nihachu?” Schlatt asks into the microphone. “All you have to do is admit that I’m in charge now. It's really that simple.”

“Never,” she hisses, glowering at the stage. “I am loyal to Wilbur. You did not earn your power, you stole it! And you are _abusing_ it!”

Schlatt tsks and shakes his head. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?”

Then he waves his hand, and Niki’s being dragged back to her little cell.

Tubbo says nothing. He just watches her go.

She wonders what happened to her friend. Her friend who would stick up for her. He isn’t here anymore. This Tubbo is different. Emptier.

As soon as they lock her in, she throws herself against the bars of the cell like she’s already done a dozen times, but the iron bars are no closer to breaking. She slumps against the cobblestone walls, hugging her legs to her chest and pushing back tears.

Schlatt had her thrown in here almost immediately, after it became clear that she was not going to calm down, was not going to play along with the charade when everyone else had fallen in line. She had tried to defend the walls Wilbur built and had almost ripped Fundy’s tail off when she caught him burning the flag – _her_ flag.

The jail cell is cold and damp and very, very lonely, and she doesn't get fed much, but she’d rather be here than – than doing whatever the hell _Tubbo_ thinks he’s doing, whatever _Fundy’s_ doing.

Niki is loyal to Wilbur. She’s loyal to Tommy. And when she had seen them, standing on the cliff, watching Schlatt’s announcement, she thought she had seen Technoblade with them. And that thought fills her with hope.

She’ll get back to them. She just has to bide her time.

She pulls herself together and stares at the floor, ignores the pathetic little plate of uncooked beetroots that Schlatt stops by to place outside of her cell with a smirk, and she plans.

(That night, she sees the message about Quackity, and it makes her skin crawl.)

_ Three days ago _

Tubbo comes to visit her.

He looks strange and awkward and unfamiliar in his formal black suit, and she thinks she can see that his hair is kind of slicked back, like Schlatt’s. It’s disgusting.

He stands at the bars, looking in. She stares back, and neither of them speak for a long moment.

“Are you doing okay?” Tubbo eventually asks.

Niki narrows her eyes. “I’m surprised that you care.”

Tubbo flinches. “Niki, I’m… I’m still your friend.”

“How can you say that?” she asks, fighting to keep emotion out of her voice. “You betrayed Wilbur and Tommy. You betrayed L’Manburg.”

“No, they betrayed _us_ ,” Tubbo says, his voice rising. “I… I told them we’d come with them, if they just left Manburg alone. But they wouldn’t listen to me. They _never_ listen to me.”

“It’s not a fair thing to ask them to do, Tubbo,” Niki mutters, crossing her arms and turning her head away from him.

Tubbo’s breath hitches in his throat. “You don’t understand what it’s like,” he says harshly. “You don’t know what war is really like. You should be _thanking_ me for trying to prevent more violence.”

“Did you prevent it for Quackity?” she snaps.

Tubbo’s face drains of color and he takes a step back. “That was self-defense. Y- you weren’t even there!” 

“We all saw the message, Tubbo,” she says with a glare. “We all heard you at the podium. Everyone knows whose side you are on.”

He looks startled, and then his face settles into a scowl. “Fine,” he says, clenching his hands into fists. “If that’s how you feel, then - _fine_.”

But he waits a moment longer, as though there’s something else he wants to say, but can't, before he finally stalks away from the cell. 

Agitated by the interaction, Niki stands and paces the length of her cell, her fingers twisting nervously through her hair, tying it back into a messy braid. It's on her third pass by the door that she sees it.

A tiny – _what’s the word?_ she thinks as she drops to the ground, looking at the small, sharp object resting on the floor. It was a pin, or – a little button. A cufflink? Was that right? Had it fallen off of Tubbo?

Stretching her arms through the bars of the cell, she’s only barely able to reach it, her fingers slipping on the smooth metal. With a small gasp, she finally grabs it and pulls it close to her, looking back and forth to make sure nobody saw her.

It’s just small enough to fit into the lock on her cell. Just long enough to trip the tumbler. And the door swings open with the smallest squeak.

She only hesitates for a moment, to gather her thoughts. This is exactly the chance she’s been waiting for.

She sprints past Punz, who’s keeping guard at the entrance to the jail, and he shouts, but she’s faster than him, and she knows where she’s going; she’s been planning the route from the moment they put her in that dingy little prison. She ducks around the side of the building, hearing an arrow whiz behind her back, and sprints straight for the forest, seeking the cover of the trees. The sun has just set, and she has the cover of darkness. It’s perfect, and she plunges into the woods, hearing shouts pick up behind her.

Niki runs until she can’t physically anymore, and then she scrambles up the tallest tree she can find, gasping for breath, her lungs burning in her chest, as she crouches in the branches and waits, listening.

Nobody comes.

Far away, maybe half a mile or further, she sees torchlight bobbing through the forest, but whoever it is is going to the south, and she is to their east.

She gives herself one celebratory punch in the air, but the motion, which knocks a branch loose from the tree, catches the attention of a nearby zombie, who paces towards her, groaning. Niki grabs onto the branch a little tighter. 

She's escaped, but she's not safe. Not yet.

_ Two days ago _

Niki catches a few haphazard hours of sleep wedged into the branches of the tree, wakes up with a jerk, and grabs onto the branches in a moment of panic. But she doesn’t fall.

She used to sleep like this pretty often, when she was still on her own. But it’s been a long time.

The sun is just rising, and Niki stretches the ache out of her limbs, rubbing her tired eyes.

Her sole and only focus from here on out is finding Wilbur. She has no idea where they’ve gone, and she’s sure that they’ve hidden themselves well.

Oh, well. She has all the time in the world.

She lowers herself to the ground, and chooses a direction.

/\/\

It’s treacherous, being out in the wild, for more reasons than one.

She almost trips into a ravine, a few hours into her hike. It catches her by surprise, and she has to stifle a shocked yell as she scrambles for purchase on the edge of the cliff, falling backwards and grabbing onto the grass as part of the ground falls away under her feet.

An hour after that, she hears footsteps coming through the trees, and she has to throw herself into a small cave, hiding behind a boulder, as she watches George walk by, his gaze fixed on the ground. Niki has no idea what George's deal is, and she's not trying to find out. She waits for a while longer before emerging from the outcropping, thanking her lucky stars there weren't any monsters in the little cavern.

If she dies out here, she’ll respawn back in her house, in the borders of Manburg. It can’t happen.

Besides, Niki muses as she continues on her trek, she hates respawning, just like anyone. It’s so painful, every step of it: the actual physical sensation of dying, like being yanked out of your body; the timeless pause, like an airless gasp, inside that cold, dark void, feeling yourself being pulled apart cell by cell; and the respawn itself, like being knit back together and feeling every stitch. To everyone else, respawning takes seconds; to the person going through it, it feels like hours.

It's irrelevant, anyway. She won't respawn. She'll make sure of it.

But the hunt is fruitless so far. She can’t find any sign of Wilbur or Tommy, any sign that anyone has been in this area at all. She looks for coal around the edges of caves, to make torches, and when she finally finds a vein of it, she almost misses the hiss of a creeper behind her as she digs; she throws herself away only _just_ in time to avoid the explosion. As it is, a rock that flies away from the blast hits her in the torso and leaves a dark bruise on her side.

That night, she climbs up into another tree and stays very quiet, listening to the rattle of skeletons as they pass underneath her. She hugs her L’Manburg jacket around her shoulders tightly and trembles against the wind.

_ One day ago _

The rain wakes her up.

It’s cold and steady. There’s no thunder, but the dark gray clouds take up the entire sky, hanging low and heavy. The rain shows no sign of stopping.

Niki starts shivering almost immediately as the rain soaks through the heavy material of her jacket and plasters her hair to her head. She makes it about an hour with the jacket on, but the water-logged cotton makes the uniform jacket ten pounds heavier, weighing on her shoulders and slowing her down.

Reluctantly, she takes off her L’Manburg jacket and sets it, tenderly, on a nearby rock. She crosses her arms, the rain immediately soaking into the plain brown shirt she wore underneath it. 

“I’ll come back,” she tells it, feeling silly, but still taking note of the coordinates.

She walks through a birch forest and then climbs a mountain. By the time she reaches the other side, her boots are almost worn through, and her feet ache with every step.

Niki forges on.

The sun hasn’t come out, so zombies and skeletons are still roaming the dark forest she enters next. She has to swing her axe through a few skeletons, seeing their bones scatter across the ground. She just runs from the zombies. She’s never been able to stomach the act of killing them. Of feeling a weapon sink into flesh.

She wonders how Tubbo did it. When it wasn’t even a zombie. It was Quackity. And it was permanent.

Tubbo takes up a lot of her thoughts. So does Tommy. But especially Wilbur.

She’s not sure that she’ll be able to find them. She’s not sure where she is anymore, either. She doesn't recognize any landmarks, doesn't have any sense of where she's already been. She just keeps going, switching up directions every now and then, because every direction feels equally likely to be correct.

She keeps going late into the night. It’s only when the mobs start to get seriously thick that she finally drags herself up a tree, soaked completely through with rain, twisting the excess water out of her hair.

Even in her dreams, she can’t get warm.

_ Today _

The sun rises the next day, but it somehow makes everything worse, because everything Niki is wearing still feels damp, but now it’s hot, too, and she just feels miserable.

She didn’t sleep hardly at all, so as soon as the sun rises, she sets out with waiting.

She trudges through a swamp, and her foot sinks into the bog, nearly taking off her right boot entirely.

In a plains biome, a hidden lava pit nearly takes her by surprise.

At every point, she looks for something that might indicate the presence of another person. A fizzled out campfire, or some strangely-placed cobblestone, or a little dirt shack.

But there’s nothing. Nothing for miles. Nothing even remotely close.

Every now and then, she’ll stop, and she’ll shout, hearing her voice echo in the wilderness.

Usually, she shouts, “WILBUR!”

But nobody ever responds.

She misses him like a stab in the chest. He’s her best friend. He’s the person she feels safest around.

She doesn’t feel safe here. Niki can take care of herself, but she doesn’t like constantly glancing over her back, constantly feeling on edge.

It’s actually how she imagine Techno feels most of the time. Which is why, whenever he comes around, she always tries especially hard to take care of him, to let him know that he’s safe. That he has people looking out for him. He had a hard time acknowledging things like that, but Niki doesn't mind. 

Tears prick at her eyes as she climbs into another tree as night falls, thinking about Techno, thinking about Wilbur, even Tommy. She misses them, and she wants to believe that she’ll find them, but they’re somewhere out here in this endless wilderness, and she just doesn’t know. She just doesn’t –

She’s looking up into the sky, staring at the stars, when she sees it.

The faintest trickle of smoke, hazy against the night sky.

Niki sits straight up in the tree and nearly knocks herself off the branch. She freezes and holds her breath, as though exhaling too hard might blow the smoke away.

But it doesn’t disappear. It grows a little stronger. It looks like the sputtery smoke of a campfire.

Niki gasps and jumps immediately out of the tree, feeling twigs catch on her clothes and scratch her arms in her ungraceful descent. She doesn’t care. She takes off in the direction of the smoke, her head craned up towards the sky to try and keep a visual on it, to make sure she’s heading in the right direction.

They’re close. They’re close. She’s almost there –

She bites back a shriek as she feels her feet slip, and she scrambles back at the edge of _another_ ravine, sending rocks tumbling down the side of the cliff.

And then she realizes that she’s staring at the trail of smoke. That it’s coming _from_ the deep gash in the earth.

Her heart pounding, her entire body aching, knowing she probably looks like some kind of horrible wild woman, she leans over the edge, and far, far below her, she sees three figures, two of them holding bows, looking up at her.

“Show yourself immediately!” shouts a dear, familiar voice.

She’s never been happier to hear it.

“Wilbur,” she cries, and the bows fall immediately, and Wilbur lets out a happy shout, and he’s running up the cliff to meet her. She practically falls into him when he reaches her, wrapping her arms around his middle, and he hugs her back and smooths her hair out of her face and she nearly sobs because she did it, she did it.

She found them.

/\/\

Later, after they’ve given her a change of clothes, and she’s sitting around the fire, eagerly digging into a baked potato, she tells them the whole story, and she feels a warm glow of pride at the way Wilbur looks at her, like she’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.

“We were just coming to get you,” he tells her quietly, after Techno and Tommy have gone to bed and the two of them are still sitting around the dying embers of the campfire. “We were going to do it tomorrow. We just had to be careful.”

“I completely understand,” Niki tells him, leaning forward. “I would not have been able to live with myself if – if you had come, and something had gone wrong.”

They both kind of shiver, and look down at their feet.

“So… what happens next?” Niki asks quietly.

Wilbur looks contemplative. “Phil is coming tomorrow. I suppose we’ll… put together a plan, and then... then we take our country back.” 

He sounds determined, but not excited. This is different from the unbridled passion she saw in him during the revolution. Wilbur is far more muted, now, almost solemn. Perhaps because he now knows what comes next. 

“We have to do it soon,” Niki whispers. “Schlatt is ruining everything. He has already destroyed so much, and he is determined to expand into Dream’s land. Dream will fight him and win -,” 

“And we’ll lose L’Manburg forever,” Wilbur finishes grimly.

Niki bites the inside of her cheek, studying his face. He looks so exhausted. There are tired lines around his eyes. But when she puts her hand on his, he gives her a smile, and she knows that hope still exists, like the dying embers of the fire; weakened, but still burning.

_Tonight. _

The White House is dark and vacant. Except for Schlatt. He’s sitting, slouched in a chair that he’s been using sort of like a throne recently, hands pressed to his mouth, watching the door. Waiting.

Eventually, the door opens, and Tubbo comes in, and Schlatt smiles, sitting up in his chair.

“What’s happenin’, Tubbo?”

The kid’s been growin’ into himself, Schlatt thinks as Tubbo comes towards him, growin’ into the suit, standin’ a little taller when he talks to Schlatt, lookin’ a little less nervous. It’s good, it’s really good. It’s everything Schlatt could have wanted from the kid, and more.

But tonight, Tubbo has that stupid, hesitant look on his face he gets sometimes as he hands Schlatt a piece of paper. Schlatt unfolds it to see a scrawled set of coordinates.

“She found them,” Schlatt says with no small amount of satisfaction.

Tubbo clearly wants to say something, so Schlatt waits until he has the courage to spit it out.

“We’re going to leave them alone, though, right, Schlatt?” he finally asks, shifting from side to side. “Like you said we would.”

“Exactly right,” Schlatt lies, folding the piece of paper up and sticking it into his pocket. “This is purely precautionary, kid, purely precautionary. You did good.”

Tubbo’s eyes light up like he's a little puppy dog who's gotten a treat, and he nods, looking satisfied.

“Take the rest of the night off,” Schlatt says, as though he’s being generous. It’s already late, really late; but Tubbo still looks grateful as he scampers off to wherever the hell Tubbo spends his free time.

Schlatt scrubs a hand through his hair and fingers the paper in his pocket and grins to himself, grins up at the ceiling, grins just for the pleasure of grinning.

“Hey, Fundy,” he calls, and he sees his secret weapon step out of the shadows. “Does it jinx it too much if I say everything is going exactly as planned?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all i want for christmas is a unified way of spelling L'Manburg/ L'manburg/ L'Manberg/ L'manberg


	7. around my neck

Phil arrives at dawn.

He swoops into the ravine with his elytra, as gracefully as if he had been born with wings. As soon as he touches down, Tommy rushes to embrace him, Wilbur and Techno trailing not too far behind. Phil gives him a big hug that makes him feel sort of like a kid, but it’s okay, because it’s Phil.

Tommy can understand why Techno was hesitant to call Phil into the war, because, out of all of them, Phil is the one with the most to lose. He has a whole life apart from them – a _wife,_ a home.

But Tommy is still grateful to see his friend, and he can tell Techno is, too. There’s something immediately grounding about Phil’s presence, and he greets each one of them in turn before unloading his supplies: elytra, a handful of Netherite ingots, and more diamonds than they know what to do with.

They start showing him around right away, showing off what they’ve been doing. Phil compliments what they’ve done with the ravine and gives them pointers on the redstone contraption they made to harvest the potatoes, which is fascinating to Tommy.

They also introduce him to Niki, who looks sort of shy until Phil immediately wraps her in a gentle hug, saying, “Wil’s said so much about you. Welcome to the family.”

And it’s just… so… _Phil._

Their camp immediately feels more like a home, and they spend the morning sitting around the table, eating breakfast and talking, catching each other up on what’s happened since they last saw each other. Phil listens with close attention as Wilbur describes the war for independence, the period of peace, the election and its aftermath, the imposition of permadeath. Tommy sprinkles in his own colorful additions throughout.

When they reach the end of the story, Phil sits back heavily in his chair, nodding. “It sounds like you boys have been through a lot.”

It’s both the most accurate summary and the wildest understatement Tommy’s ever heard, and he sort of chuckles, glancing at Wilbur.

“Schlatt will destroy L’Manburg if we don’t stop him,” Wilbur says, his voice taking on that low timbre it always does when he’s being very serious. He hasn’t stopped calling their home L’Manburg – as though Schlatt’s renaming of the place is no more than an aberration. “We have to go into battle. I know this isn’t your fight – either of you,” he continues, looking towards Techno, who has his arms crossed and one knee pulled up to his chest. “I want you to know that if you don’t want to take this risk… I understand.”

There’s a moment of quiet silence before Phil sighs, leaning forward.

“Wilbur,” he says, “I’ve never seen you more passionate about _anything._ Literally, anything. L’Manburg is clearly something worth fighting for. And I’ve got your back.”

Wilbur looks towards Techno, who just inclines his head. “You know I’m always down for a little trouble-makin’.”

Niki grabs Wilbur’s hand with a smile. “We are all with you, Wilbur. Just tell us what to do.”

Tommy clears his throat. “Well, I know you weren’t technically asking me, but I think I’m good, actually,” he says, making as if to stand from the table. “You lot have fun, and let me know how it goes, okay? See ya-”

Wilbur rolls his eyes and grabs Tommy’s wrist, pulling him back down. “Sorry, Tommy. You’re being conscripted.”

“Child labor!” Tommy protests, pulling a laugh from Phil.

“How else would we get rich?” Techno says with a smirk; Niki elbows him playfully, which flusters him.

Phil places his palms down on the table. “So, then. What’s the plan?”

* * *

Tubbo wakes up alone.

The sun streams through the eastern-facing windows and across his bed, tugging him awake. He gets up and yawns, stretching, blinking into the light. Then he does what he’s been doing every morning: he makes himself a cup of tea and eats breakfast at his little kitchen table. It’s peaceful, and quiet. And lonely.

Tubbo’s getting used to being alone. And he thinks it’s probably okay that it makes him feel sad. You can’t be happy all the time, you know.

When Wilbur was president, Tommy was usually the one to wake Tubbo up, pulling him out of bed and onto the floor with an excited shout, dragging Tubbo into whatever scheme he had concocted for the day. Tubbo would stumble along behind him and grab something to eat on the way out the door, and the day would be full of chaos and laughter, and they’d come home dirt-scuffed and exhausted –

Tubbo shakes himself out of his thoughts. It’s not good to dwell on the past like that. Being alone is just fine. It gives him space to be his own person.

Plus, it gives him time to think. He thinks about what he wants to build next: a bee sanctuary, just outside his home, with a little garden; an expansion to the underground bunker that he’s kept close to his chest, hidden from anyone else in Manburg. He thinks about his building projects a lot, staring off into space, absorbed in his thoughts. It’s a way to pass the time.

Once he’s done with breakfast, Tubbo walks by himself into town, listening to the birds. He sees a few people on his walk, usually – Sapnap or Fundy or Karl. None of them say hello. Usually, they look away.

He thinks it’s maybe because of Quackity. He hadn’t gotten a chance to explain himself to anyone. Nobody really asked. Speculating about what they must think of him makes him feel very ashamed, so he’s glad they don’t come talk to him. He doesn’t know what they would say.

Alone is comfortable, and familiar, and safe. Even though it hurts, it hurts in a predictable way. A manageable one.

And, besides. Every morning, he goes and he talks to Schlatt, who gives him things to do, and tells him that he’s doing a good job. Schlatt still cares about him – still wants him around. Schlatt saved him from Quackity, after all, gave him a job, gave him a place in Manburg. Tubbo clings to that now, clings to the tasks Schlatt assigns him.

Mostly, he goes door to door and asks for contributions. Schlatt wants to expand, after all, and expansion requires resources. Tubbo finds people are more than willing to give them contributions, especially when he wears the Netherite armor Schlatt gave him. Tubbo’s never actually had Netherite armor before. Schlatt says it makes him look official. It shows people where their contributions are going.

_(Do the people he visits have fear in their eyes? Is that why they run to grab their diamonds and valuable possessions before Tubbo even has to ask? Is that why they close the door on him as soon as they can?)_

He doesn’t think too hard about it, anymore.

He just does what Schlatt asks him to, does it faithfully.

There isn’t really anything else to do.

* * *

Wilbur explains the plan.

He’s set up a little battle station in a new room he’s carved into the ravine, with a large stone table in the middle. When the rebel group enters, they see that he’s written out plans on a number of pages pinned to the walls, and that there’s a small map of L’Manburg spread out on the table itself, a few tokens made of crudely carved wood sitting on top.

“Are these supposed to be us?” Tommy asks, quickly grabbing the biggest one. “Cuz if so, this one’s me.”

“Why do you get the largest one?” Techno asks, crossing his arms as he stands next to Tommy. 

“Because I’m so big and mighty.”

Wilbur snatches the token out of his hand, shooting him a look. “Actually, this is Schlatt.”

Tommy makes a face. “Gross. Why does he get the cool one?”

“Because he’s really the only person on this map that matters,” Wilbur says, and he places Schlatt right on top of the White House.

Tommy crosses his arms petulantly, but pays close attention as Wilbur starts in.

“Here’s the thing,” the man says, his face focused. He looks like Tommy remembers him looking from the days of the revolution – when they had nothing going for them but their ability to think creatively. It fills him with a rush of excitement as Wilbur continues: “We have less people than them, and since we don’t want to kill anybody, we can’t overpower them. We have to strike hard and fast, _once,_ and take the advantage.”

He knocks down the Schlatt token dramatically.

Niki’s forehead furrows. “Are… are we going to kill him?”

There’s a second of tense silence.

“I don’t think we have to,” Wilbur says carefully. “We try to get him to surrender, first. But, if worst comes to worst…”

Niki clearly looks disturbed by this possibility.

“Niki,” Phil says kindly, “permadeath is nothing to mess around with. Schlatt is doing his people a huge disservice by turning off respawns. If he doesn’t agree to turn it off, a _lot_ more people will die.”

She still doesn’t look fully convinced, but she nods. “I understand.”

It bothers Tommy a little, too, if he’s being honest, but he figures that bridge will be crossed in time, so he presses Wilbur forward a little faster. “So we have to get to Schlatt. Is that the entirety of your plan, o great leader?”

“Well, it’s a _little_ bit more complicated than that,” Wilbur says, and then cracks his knuckles. “Not that much, though. Basically, we set fire to the White House.”

“You want to pull a Sapnap on ‘em?” Tommy says, his stomach twisting with nerves at the thought.

“Sort of,” Wilbur says. “Schlatt’s staying pretty much holed up in the White House, surrounded by bodyguards. We can’t get to him there without engaging in some serious combat. But if we set fire to the place, it’ll force him out into the open. While most everybody is consumed with putting out the flames, we have Tommy and Techno swoop in to confront Schlatt and whoever else stays with him, and force him to resign.”

“Me?!” Tommy exclaims.

“You two are our strongest fighters,” Wilbur says, and Tommy looks at Techno with star-struck eyes.

“That okay with you, Tommy?” Techno asks with a quirked eyebrow.

Tommy splutters. “Is – is that _okay_ with – pfft-,”

“Please don’t let this go to your head,” Wilbur says, but an enormous smile is already spreading across Tommy’s face and he cackles with barely-bridled glee.

“Tommy Innit and Techno Blade, PVP Gods!” he crows, throwing a fist in the air. “Oh, my god, this is going to be so awesome.”

Techno rolls his eyes but can’t hide a small grin.

“What will the rest of us mere mortals be doing in the meantime, Wilbur?” Phil asks with an exasperated tone.

“I think Niki and I should work together to start the fire,” Wilbur says, “and Phil, I want you to mostly hang back until you’re needed. You can watch from a nearby high point and swoop in if things start to go south. We only have a few healing potions, so we’ll leave those to you.”

Phil and Niki both nod.

“Here’s the important bit,” Wilbur says, and he looks into each of his friends’ faces individually. “If any of you, at _any_ point, get seriously injured, you leave. _Immediately._ You don’t risk it. We can come back – we can try this again. But we can’t lose any of us to permadeath. Okay? It’s not an option. Play. It. Safe.”

Even acknowledging the possibility of losing someone to permadeath sends a chill through the room, and Tommy’s eyes are wide when Wilbur turns to look directly at him. “I’m talking to you, TommyInnit. Tomorrow is not the day to go be a hero, understand?”

“Hey, I’m a heroic guy, I can’t make any promises,” Tommy says weakly, but the joke doesn’t land. He straightens himself up a little bit and nods. “I understand, Wilbur.”

Wilbur nods shortly. “Alright, then. We’ve been preparing, and I don’t see any reason to wait. We’ll do this tomorrow. Any objections?”

There aren’t any, of course. The five of them stand at the table together for another moment longer.

“Schlatt is powerful, but he’s only one person,” Wilbur finally says. “If we stick together, we’ll win this. We’ll take our country back.”

* * *

Fundy listens in.

He’s crouched in the bushes above the ravine, his hypersensitive ears pricked up and tuned into the conversation, which sounds as loud as if they were standing right in front of him.

As their war meeting wraps up, his ears fold back against his head. His nerves are grated to shreds from having to listen to the smug confidence in Wilbur’s voice. Other people might see it as the quality of a good leader, but Fundy can’t see it as anything but arrogance.

He slips into the forest, as silent and unnoticed as when he arrived, compiling mental notes of what he’s just heard. He heads straight back towards Manburg.

Nobody’s asked Fundy why he switched so quickly to Schlatt’s side, and to be honest, Fundy’s okay with that. He doesn’t feel he owes anybody an explanation. Anybody at all.

And besides, it’s pretty difficult to describe in a thirty-second elevator pitch the years of neglect; of being treated as an afterthought; a _joke;_ a secondary inconvenience to Wilbur’s constant, never-ending goal, which is not, after all, to create a strong country, but to have _personal power_ over that country.

Wilbur would rather burn Manburg to the ground than let it exist without him, even if it includes his own son, and the fact that Fundy wasn’t mentioned a single time in that entire meeting just confirms to him that he’s made the right choice as he crests the hill that leads to his home.

He pushes through the doors of the White House quietly and sees Schlatt there, talking to Tubbo, who holds a sword at his side. The two of them turn towards him as he enters.

Fundy looks at Tubbo coolly. They haven’t spoken since the election. He doesn’t really have anything to say. Which is strange, considering the two of them could probably understand each other better than anyone. But Fundy thinks he and Tubbo both recognize that the other has changed. And maybe they don’t want to confront the ways they’ve changed, themselves.

“I have news,” he tells Schlatt, who leans forward in his chair. “They’re planning on attacking. Tomorrow.”

Schlatt’s eyebrows raise. “Wow. That’s gutsy. And sooner than I thought. Who is it?”

“Wilbur, Tommy, Technoblade, Nihachu, and Philza,” Fundy lists.

Tubbo inhales sharply. “Phil’s here?”

“He doesn’t matter,” Schlatt says, waving his hand dismissively. “Actually, basically none of them do. The only person I’m scared of in that stupid little list is Technoblade. That guy is a monster. I mean, seriously.”

Fundy nods. “So… what do we do?”

Schlatt sits back, pressing his fingertips together and against his mouth. “I’ll tell you what we do,” he finally says. “Tommy and Wilbur think they’re so fuckin’ clever. Well, we’re gonna beat them at their own game. We match their plan. And we get rid of the threat, once and for all.”

Tubbo kind of flinches. “Are… are you going to kill them?” he asks, his voice wavering.

Schlatt spreads his hands out in a pacifying gesture. “Not unless I have to, Tubbo! Not unless they make me, okay? They’re the ones trying to kill _me,_ here. What do you want me do, _not_ defend myself?”

“No,” Tubbo says in a small voice, and Schlatt nods.

“Then we agree. Now, let me tell you what we’re going to do.”

* * *

Technoblade fashions an axe.

He’s never going to give up his attachment to the sword as the superior weapon. It’s just more elegant, more flexible, in a fundamental sense. But after his… encounter with Dream, he’s begrudgingly acknowledged that an axe can, in certain circumstances, inflict significantly more damage.

And anyway, he has an idea.

While the other members of his team go about their preparations, Techno retreats to a little room he’s made just for this purpose, full of the materials he needs to forge a new weapon.

He creates two new diamond axes. He enchants one with efficiency, giving it blunt strength. He enchants the other with sharpness, making it deadly.

He’s noticed that Netherite, although it’s stronger once it’s set, is actually more malleable than diamonds while it’s still being forged, and that’s where he’s gotten this idea. So before he converts the diamonds to Netherite, he fashions their handles together, each axe pointing in the opposite direction. Then he places the axe, along with the necessary Netherite ingots, into the fire.

About an hour later, he pulls out the axe and views his new creation with deep satisfaction.

It’s a double-edged axe, the Netherite having melded the two together. One side of the axe is a terribly strong blunt instrument that he reckons will cut through any armor. The other is a deadly weapon.

Techno turns the axe handle over twice in his hand, feeling the heft of it, and a sharp grin crosses his face.

 _This_ is a war-worthy weapon.

He brings it out to meet Tommy and Wilbur, who are sparring in their small training clearing, and the dumbstruck expression on Tommy’s face alone is enough to make the whole endeavor worth it.

Just for fun, Techno says, “wanna see what it does to a tree?”

He faces the nearest oak, which stands at least a hundred feet high, and assumes his stance, holding the axe over his shoulder.

Techno breathes deeply, and then he takes a running start at the tree, swinging the axe and making a full, 360-degree turn to build momentum before planting his feet and burying the axe in the trunk.

It cleaves straight through.

The tree groans and then starts to fall to the side, and Techno has to leap out of the way of a few low-hanging branches as the oak crashes to the ground.

He stares at it with an open mouth, as Wilbur and Tommy start to cackle and cheer behind him.

“That’s INSANE!!” Tommy shrieks, and Wilbur says, “that’s the fucking Blood God, dude!”

Techno turns and gives them both a breathless smile. “Okay. Who’s up first?”

* * *

Schlatt… might be going a little crazy.

Tubbo is kept to help him prepare for the rest of the day and late into the night. Eventually, Tubbo starts yawning enough that Schlatt gets annoyed, and he dismisses him with a curt eye roll.

It makes Tubbo feel bad, because he feels like he’s failed Schlatt, and he doesn’t want to do that. But he can’t deny that his eyelids and limbs are heavy as he trudges back to his house. It’s late, and he’s not sure what else Schlatt wants him to do to prepare for what’s coming tomorrow.

Tomorrow. The thought sends a deep chill down his spine, waking him up slightly.

He’s gone over the plan a hundred times by now, yet he still doesn’t know if it makes sense. Wilbur always used to make the plans, before. Well. He supposes Wilbur is still making the plans.

He wonders how Tommy’s doing. If he’s thinking about tomorrow, as well. If he’s thinking about Tubbo at all.

It was the one thing he had confronted Schlatt about.

“We can’t kill Tommy,” he had said firmly, pulling himself up, as they discussed the plan again.

Schlatt had looked at him pityingly, like Tubbo was stupid, which stung. “And what if he tries to kill us, huh, Tubbo? You thought about that one?”

“He won’t,” Tubbo had said stubbornly, his fists clenched at his side. “He’s not like that.”

Schlatt sighed, narrowing his eyes. “You know Tommy betrayed you, right, Tubbo?”

“He…” Tubbo trailed off.

“He left you here like you were nothing. He doesn’t give a shit about you. If you’re really still hung up on this kid, I’ll do my best, okay? But I’m not making any promises. And I think you’re probably in for a rude awakening tomorrow.”

The words hadn’t settled right with Tubbo. They felt wrong, somehow. But even now, as he’s walking home alone, with space to think, he can’t quite pin down _why_ they’re wrong. Tommy… did leave him, right? And… and he hadn’t even tried to reach out to him again. Yes… Schlatt had banished him, but Schlatt was doing what he thought needed to be done.

It’s all so much that Tubbo just shoves it away and tries not to think about it, tries not to think about what tomorrow will actually bring.

 _It will be fine,_ he tells himself, _it will be fine,_ as he gets home and locks the door behind him, _it will be okay,_ as he pulls himself into bed, not even bothering to change his clothes, _it’ll all turn out alright,_ as he stares through the moon peeking in through his windows, _it’ll all be okay again soon,_ as he sniffles softly and lets himself cry until he falls asleep. 

* * *

Tommy eats enough for two armies.

The rebels sit around another campfire that night, and they pull out all the stops: steak from a few of their cows, roasted carrots from Phil’s farm, and, of course, hearty servings of baked potatoes.

Tommy feels bodily exhausted, but mentally, he’s wide awake, his mind buzzing with anxiety and excitement over the upcoming day. They’ve spent all day preparing: going over the details of the plan, putting together their resources, and practicing together in the sparring arena.

But for dinner, the five of them relax. They tell stories over the campfire that get progressively better as the evening progresses – or worse, depending on which side of the joke you’re on.

“Wait,” Wilbur is saying, already choking on laughter, “have – have I told you all about when Tommy asked me to be his wingman?”

“No,” Tommy immediately says, “no, no, no, Wilbur, stop it,” but nothing is stopping Wilbur, who continues, “there was this girl, and she --,” but here he starts laughing so hard that he loses the ability to speak, and he has to pause for a moment, doubling over the plate on his lap.

“See, Wilbur is making up a story because he’s intimidated by how good I am with women,” Tommy says desperately, but Wilbur is waving his hand, catching his breath.

“He wanted me to talk to this girl,” he manages, “and hype him up, y’know? So I go up to her and I’m like… have you met my friend Tommy? And I point to him, and he’s just staring at us, so she looks right at him, and he immediately goes _so red_ that she says, ‘who, the tomato boy?’”

Tommy feels downright betrayed as Phil and Niki cackle with laughter, joining Wilbur, who wheezes “ _tomato boy!”,_ and he even sees a little smile tug across Techno’s face, even though he tries to mask it by taking another bite of his dinner.

“That is not fair, Wilbur, that is not fair!” he shouts, although his friends’ laughter is infectious and he eventually joins them, dropping his head in his hands. “Oh my god. I am never gonna live that down.”

“Don’t feel too bad, Tommy,” Niki says sweetly. “You should hear some of the stuff Wilbur’s said…”

“Oi,” Wilbur says with some panic, and Niki giggles, covering her mouth.

“Niki, Niki, Niki,” Tommy rushes, “you have to tell me, Niki, you have to tell me right now, okay, -”

“She doesn’t have to tell you anything,” Wilbur shouts, throwing a forkful of potato at Tommy, who ducks out of the way just in time, shouting “hey!”

“Okay, boys, calm down,” Phil says, shooting them both looks.

Niki makes eye contact with Tommy and winks, mouthing _later._

“See,” Techno says in a dry monotone, “the trick to not havin’ embarrassing stories like this is to never talk to anybody. Problem solved.”

Tommy snorts. “Not all of us have fuckin’ achieved enlightenment and left behind the need for human attachment or whatever, like you have, Big T.”

“Aw, Techno’s a big softie, he just doesn’t like to show it,” Wilbur says, leaning over to stoke the fire a little.

“Lies and slander,” Techno protests lightly. “I have an image to maintain!”

They continue on in this vein a little while longer, until the fire burns down and yawns start to replace laughs. Then they just sit in silence for a few minutes more. Safe and warm around the fire.

Tommy sneaks a glance around the faces of his friends. Is this… could this be the last time they sit together like this? The thought makes his stomach twist into knots, and he starts gently clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap.

“Well,” Phil eventually sighs, “S’pose I should get some sleep,” and he gets up with a quiet goodnight.

Wilbur and Niki follow him not too long after. Wilbur pats Tommy on the shoulder before he leaves. Niki gives Techno a hug, which he returns after just a moment.

Then it’s just Tommy and Techno, unmoving.

“Hey,” Tommy says, and Techno glances up at him. “I’m not about to sleep for a million years. You wanna go train some more instead?”

Techno raises his eyebrows and grins slowly. “A man after my own heart,” he says, and the sentence sparks a flicker of pride in Tommy’s chest. 

They head out into the darkness, their weapons in hand, and pause in the clearing as Techno ties his shoulder-length hair back into a short ponytail. Tommy flips his sword over and over in his hand.

“Reckon if I told me from a year ago that I would be keeping up with Technoblade in a duel, he would have punched me in the face for lying,” he muses into the still night air.

“I think if I told me from a year ago I’d still be hangin’ around that annoying kid with a howler monkey screech for a laugh, he’d punch me in the face for being an idiot,” Techno says with a smile in his voice, hoisting up that wicked double-edged axe of his.

“Aw, come on, man,” Tommy chuckles, holding his sword out in front of him.

It takes him at least a dozen goes before he even has a chance at combatting Techno’s insane axe strategy. The double-edged weapon allows him to move in both directions at once, his weapon moving in the opposite way from his body yet still hitting true.

But after a while, Tommy starts picking up on Techno’s tells, the way his feet shift before he strikes, the way his axe swings in the same arc every time. On a particularly good round, he manages to twist the axe out of Techno’s hand and brings his sword up to Techno’s neck before he has the opportunity to react.

“Not bad,” Techno says, and Tommy drops his sword, breathing hard. “You’re doin’ really good, Tommy. You’re ready for tomorrow.”

The mention of tomorrow makes things real again, and Tommy swallows around the sudden knot in his throat as Techno goes to retrieve his axe.

And for all Techno pretends not to understand emotions of any sort, he seems to recognize something’s up, because he doesn’t launch straight into the next round. He just stands and inspects his axe, waiting to see if Tommy’s gonna say anything.

“What if we’re making a mistake?” Tommy says. His voice is quiet, yet his words seem to echo in the small clearing.

Techno pauses, then looks up at Tommy. He looks serious. “You think the attack is a mistake?”

Tommy shrugs. His sword suddenly feels very heavy in his hands. “What if… what if we lose someone? Or… what if we really hurt somebody else?” he says, and he thinks of Tubbo again, as he has every single time they’ve talked about permadeath. “We… we could just stay out here. We would be just fine. I just don’t know if… if I’m being stupid.”

Technoblade sighs. He looks like he’s mulling over the words. There’s no sound in the clearing except for the faint call of crickets and the rustle of wind through the branches of the trees.

“Some things are worth fightin’ for,” he eventually says, and Tommy looks at him with wide eyes. “Some things are even worth dyin’ for. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be anything worth livin’ for. You know?”

Tommy takes a deep breath, feeling his heartbeat go steady. He nods.

“Do you think L’Manburg is one of those things?” Techno asks, setting the head of his axe down on the ground.

“Yes,” Tommy answers, somewhat hoarsely. “I do.”

“Then I do, too,” Techno says with a small shrug. He walks closer and ruffles Tommy’s hair a little, and Tommy sort of swats his hand away obligatorily, but he also smiles.

They walk back together in an understanding silence, and Tommy falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please enjoy the fluffy parts of this chapter because next chapter is going to be........ ROUGH. 
> 
> also, this fic has turned out a lot more Tommy & Techno centric than I originally anticipated, but I'm not mad! I think it's an interesting dynamic that doesn't get explored *as* often as some others, so I hope y'all don't mind, either!
> 
> thanks so much for your comments last chapter - they made me really happy :)


	8. but now it's missing.

This is how it goes:

The sun is up, and the rebels are standing on the cliff, overlooking a country that used to be theirs.

Techno has his hair tied back, his red cloak pinned around his neck. Phil’s Elytra is equipped. Niki holds a sword at her side. Wilbur palms his flint and steel.

Tommy is wearing his L’Manburg uniform again. Wilbur gave him a strange look for it, but he doesn’t care. It makes him feel strong. It reminds him what he’s fighting for.

From their vantage point, they can see people patrolling the border. Tommy catches a glimpse of Bad and Skeppy walking by, outfitted in Netherite. He wonders if they really feel loyal to Schlatt, or if they just feel afraid of him. It doesn’t really matter, ultimately. As long as they fight for Schlatt, they’re enemies. 

“Not exactly a looker, is she?” Phil asks. It’s the first time he’s seen their country.

“It used to be,” Wilbur says. L'Manburg is all ruined now, with its best parts damaged and in disrepair. The only new things Schlatt has built are big, shapeless cubes that he calls apartment buildings and offices. “It will be again.”

“Hell yes, it will,” Niki says with quiet determination, hoisting her sword.

Tommy glances at Techno, who’s been quiet all morning, focused. Techno looks contemplative as he looks over the land, and then he equips his double-edged axe, letting the blade fall to the earth.

“Any final words of advice, Big T?” Tommy asks. “Being our resident war expert and all.”

Techno looks at the rest of them and lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Don't die.”

Phil snorts. “Yeah. Thanks for that one, mate.”

“You ready?” Wilbur asks, and Tommy turns his head and realizes that he’s talking to him.

Tommy nods. “Ready. Revolution, round two.”

Wilbur’s expression looks more like a grimace than a smile.

* * *

The sewers are as dark and musty as ever, but Wilbur’s never been more grateful for them as he and Niki pick their way through the tunnels, heading for the White House. They don’t speak, for fear someone above ground might hear them. Wilbur is holding a torch, lighting their way as they go. Water trickles past them in a steady current.

As they pass what Wilbur thinks must be the limits of the Manburg border, a shiver runs down his spine, as though he can actually _feel_ the shift into permadeath mode. His body suddenly feels much heavier, more _permanent_ , and he knows that from here on out, every move he makes has to count.

Their footsteps echo down the stone tunnels and then Wilbur holds out a hand, stopping them underneath a wooden trap door in the low-hanging ceiling.

“Is this it?” Niki whispers, and Wilbur nods.

They take position under the trap door, exactly like they talked about, and they listen. Based on what they had seen during their stakeouts, Wilbur expected to hear at least a few people walking past, but he doesn’t hear anything now, which surprises him.

“Is everything okay?” Niki says, and Wilbur hesitates before shrugging. 

“I guess so. Let’s do this.”

Carefully, Niki reaches up and opens the trap door a few inches.

In one fluid motion, Wilbur lights a stick of TNT and throws it through the crack.

Immediately, the two of them take off in a run away from the opening, holding their ears and waiting for the blast –

But it doesn’t come. They end up standing a few feet away, staring at the little wooden door, which firmly refuses to explode. There isn’t even a trickle of smoke.

“Why didn’t it go off?” Niki asks.

“I… I don’t know,” Wilbur says, his stomach sinking. “I guess we… try again?”

So they go back, and they repeat the same routine, and they run away again, and still, there isn’t a blast.

“What’s happening?” Niki asks in a frustrated whisper.

“It must be faulty TNT,” Wilbur guesses, looking down at the few remaining sticks in his pack. “I could have sworn I made them right. I…”

“Well, we have our flints, right?”

“Right,” Wilbur says hesitantly, looking at Niki. Her eyes are bright and focused, reflecting the dim torchlight, and she raises her eyebrows. “Niki… it’s dangerous for us to go up there.”

She shrugs. “Isn’t everything?”

“Schlatt’s in there. He might attack us.” _He might attack you._

“Everybody else has our back,” Niki says bravely. “Come on. We got this.”

He exhales and shakes his head at her. “You are amazing, do you know that?”

Niki grins at him and grabs his face with one hand before pushing it away playfully. “Let’s set this shit on fire, Wilbur Soot.”

* * *

Tommy and Technoblade leave Phil on the top of the hill and climb carefully down the cliff, running for the back of Niki’s bakery, which stands on the outskirts of the city. This is where they’ll wait until the White House burns, until they see Schlatt leave his little bunker, and they can chase him down and corner him.

Tommy is practically trembling with anxiety, which makes him feel bad. He’s supposed to be Techno’s partner, after all, and he doesn’t want Techno to regret having Tommy with him. But when they reach the bakery and crouch behind the far wall, Tommy notices that Techno’s hands are shaking a little on his axe handle - that the older man has to clench his fists a few times before they go steady.

And that – that somehow makes him feel better. That even _Technoblade_ feels afraid. That he still pushes through, because he knows he’ll win if he does.

“Do you see anything?” he asks as Techno peeks out from behind the wall.

“Not yet,” Techno says, pulling back.

Tommy sighs. “What’s taking them so long?”

Techno shoots him a glance. “It’s been like two minutes, Tommy.”

“I’m impatient. I want to start smashing shit.”

Techno chuckles and hoists his axe. The Netherite glints in the midday sun. “Plenty of time for that.”

Tommy shivers with anticipation and hunches a little closer to the earth. “Techno,” he says quietly. “Thank you for coming. I – I don’t know what we’d do without you here.”

Techno nods at him. “Don’t worry about it. Besides. It’s been nice to feel like I have a little backup.”

"A little backup, that’s me,” Tommy says, and grins.

It’s the last quiet moment they have before they’re ambushed.

An axe smashes into the wood an inch away from Tommy’s head and he throws himself away from the wall, rolling over to see Skeppy with his hands on the handle, scowling at them. Techno shouts and throws himself at Skeppy, who wrenches his axe from the wall just in time to block Techno’s first strike, and then Bad is coming around the corner as well, and Ponk, and Tommy has to jump forward to stop Punz from getting a swipe off at Techno’s back, and his heart is suddenly hammering in his chest as he tries to fend off Punz and Bad at the same time and holy _shit what the fuck just happened ---_

_Something is wrong._

* * *

Wilbur hoists himself through the trap door first.

The main room is dark and silent and totally empty, and it runs a cold shiver down his spine. He sees the sticks of TNT he just threw through the gap. Their wicks are cut, as though someone had been waiting right outside the entrance to prevent them from detonating. 

“Something isn’t right,” he mutters as he leans down and pulls Niki up after him.

She looks around, her forehead softly furrowing. “Where is Schlatt?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” comes an all-too-familiar voice, and Wilbur and Niki spin to see Fundy pacing out of the darkness.

Fundy’s dressed in a dark suit of his own, his ears pinned back against his head, and his face is set in a scowl. He stops a few yards away from Wilbur and Niki.

“ _Fundy_ ,” Wilbur says, and he has to push down the deep, instinctual urge to run towards his son, because Fundy does _not_ look happy to see them. “Are you okay? What’s happening? Why are you here?”

“You came to kill the president?” Fundy just asks.

Wilbur’s heart pounds in his chest. “We came for L’Manberg, Fundy. To take it back.”

“It isn’t yours to take,” Fundy snarls, and then he has a sword equipped at his side. “It never was.”

“Fundy,” Wilbur pleads, and Niki shouts, “Fundy, don’t do this! We’re not here to hurt you, you’re our friend!”

But Fundy doesn’t even hesitate.

He takes a few leaping strides, as fast as ever, and then he slashes his sword in Wilbur’s direction. Niki just barely manages to equip her shield, and she jumps in front of Wilbur, intercepting the blow and pushing Fundy back. He bounces back quickly, sweeping a leg under Niki’s feet and throwing her to the ground, knocking the wind out of her _._

Wilbur backs away from Fundy, who starts pacing his way again.

“Fundy,” he pleads, and his stomach twists at the way Fundy doesn’t blink. Doesn’t seem to know him at all. “Fundy, I’m not going to fight you.”

Fundy’s lip twists into a sneer. “That is just so typical, Wilbur. Always taking the high road, so that you can pretend to be innocent when people get hurt. Well, that’s not gonna work with me.”

He lunges towards him and lashes out, and the blade makes contact, opening a deep gash on Wilbur's arm.

Wilbur shouts out in surprise. He equips his shield and sword and blocks the next hit, but when he has an opportunity to strike, he – he can’t, he just can’t. He just brings the shield up against Fundy’s next slash and feels the impact knock him back. He falls backwards and his back hits the wall, and his pulse races in his ears as Fundy stalks towards him again.

"You forgot about me, didn't you?" Fundy says. "You don't care about me at all."

“I’m sorry, Fundy,” Wilbur says, his voice breaking.

His son’s glare is colder than ice. “I don’t forgive you.”

Fundy wrenches Wilbur’s shield from his hands, and then he’s lifting his sword in the air –

And Niki slams into Fundy from behind, knocking him to the ground with a heavy thump.

“Stay away from him,” she shouts.

Fundy hits the ground, his sword thrown from his grasp, and stares up at Niki with utter shock. She hesitates over him for a moment, her sword aimed at Fundy's chest.

Then she steps back and points her blade towards the door.

“Go, Fundy,” she says, her voice shaking. “Leave.”

Fundy scrambles backwards. He pulls himself to his feet, staring at Niki with a wild, strange look in his eyes. He looks one last time at Wilbur, who is slumped on the ground, clutching his bleeding arm.

And then he sprints for the door.

As it slams behind him, Niki falls on her knees next to Wilbur. “Are you okay? Where are you hurt?”

“My arm,” Wilbur says, wincing. He cranes his neck to look at the wound. It hurts _badly_ , a deep, searing pain in the flesh, and he feels wobbly and sits back down when Niki tries to pull him to his feet. “I – I think…”

“I’ll get Phil,” Niki breathes, and Wilbur nods faintly.

Niki runs to the door and opens it, and Wilbur can hear shouts and the sound of fighting outside, and his mind swirls, because this is wrong, something has gone _terribly wrong._ And as Niki screams for Phil, something else is shouting at Wilbur from inside his own head, some instinct or premonition that pulls him to his feet, sends him stumbling towards the door and running for Niki.

“Get down,” he shouts,

and then the White House explodes.

* * *

Techno and Tommy are being attacked on all sides, swords slashing and axes flashing in the air, and Tommy yanks his shield up to block a hit from Ponk, who – whose gaze is steely, who acts like he doesn’t even know Tommy, never knew him at all. They’ve managed to maneuver into the open area in front of the bakery, across from the podium, so that they at least have room to fend off the seemingly endless wave of armored attackers, who seem to have known they would be coming.

Tommy hears Technoblade swinging his axe behind him and sets his feet, grits his teeth, blocks another hit and then snakes in to bash the handle of his sword against Ponk’s chest, like Techno taught him. The resulting strike is non-lethal but stunning, and Ponk stumbles back, giving Tommy the upper hand.

It’s a strange, manic kind of rhythm he falls into as he wards off a circle of soldiers, Techno at his back, but – but they’re doing this _,_ they’re _doing this_ , they’re starting to _win,_ pushing their ambushers back, little by little, gaining the better of every exchange _–_

An arrow, seemingly from nowhere, arcs through the air and glances off of Tommy’s chestplate, just barely missing the exposed skin of his neck. He jerks around to see Karl on top of the bakery, knocking back another arrow in his crossbow.

“Look out,” Techno shouts, and knocks Tommy down, bringing up his shield to block Punz’s sword, which was aimed in an arc for Tommy’s head. Karl’s arrow whistles past Techno, missing him by inches.

Tommy hits the ground and gasps for a moment as Techno goes into a kind of frenzy, pushing Punz away and dealing a stunning blow to Ponk’s helmet, leaving him dazed on the ground; he pulls out his bow and fires three quick shots at Karl, forcing him to duck for cover, and then he spins and swings the blunter edge of his axe directly for Punz’s chestplate. The Netherite breaks _clean in half,_ and Punz stumbles back before turning and running away.

There’s a second where Tommy and Techno have space to breathe, staring at each other with wide eyes. Blood trickles from a cut on Techno’s face.

“This did not go to plan,” Tommy says loudly.

Then the White House explodes.

The blast rocks both of them, and Tommy scrambles to his feet as the impact rockets across the land, blasting them both in a wave of heat and smoke. Tommy coughs as flames roar to life, licking up the side of the building.

“Was that supposed to happen?” Techno shouts, and Tommy shakes his head – there was supposed to be a _fire,_ not a nuclear detonation -

“Wilbur?” he screams in panic, starting to run towards the White House, but Techno grabs his arm as they see Phil swooping in through the smoke, carving an arc towards the burning building.

“Wait, Tommy, look,” Techno says, and points in the opposite direction, towards Schlatt’s horrible office buildings.

There’s a figure, there, running away from the flames. A figure with curled horns coming out the back of his head.

“It’s Schlatt,” Tommy gasps, and then there’s a shout from behind them, and four new soldiers are running their way.

“Get him,” Techno barks, setting his stance. “I’ll fend them off.”

Tommy doesn’t have time to question it, he just runs, nearly tripping over his own feet but catching himself and forging on, through the smoke and towards Schlatt’s retreating back. Schlatt ducks into an alley made by two of his ugly office buildings, and if everything has been going poorly so far, now Tommy can’t believe his luck, because Schlatt will be _cornered,_ it’ll be just him and Tommy and Tommy’ll _pummel him –_

He barrels around the side of the building and something slams into the side of his head, throwing him to the ground, the world spinning, his ears ringing. Tommy gasps raggedly in pain, his head throbbing where he’s just been hit, and he blinks blearily at –

at Tubbo –

Tubbo, who’s standing over him, a sword in hand, with blood – Tommy’s blood – dripping from its handle.

Tubbo’s eyes are huge, and he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.

“Tubbo,” Tommy coughs, trying to pull himself to his feet but feeling the world go dizzy again – he brings his hand to his head and it comes away wet with blood. “T- Tubbo -,”

“Good job, Tubbo,” he hears Schlatt say, the voice making his blood run cold. Tommy grabs blindly for his sword but feels a foot come down and pin his wrist into the earth. Schlatt leans his weight into his foot and Tommy feels something snap in his wrist, and he cries out.

“Schlatt,” he hears Tubbo say nervously, “d-don’t, you said you wouldn’t -,”

“I know what I said,” Schlatt snaps. “Tommy isn’t our target. But he needs to be weak enough to be good bait.”

Then there’s a fist in his hair and Tommy’s being pulled up, pain shooting through his scalp, as Schlatt leers down at him. “You gonna be good little bait for me, Tommy?”

“Fuck you,” Tommy seethes, and tries to swing his arm at Schlatt, but when his fist makes contact with Schlatt's shoulder, his wrist lights up in pain, and he doubles over with a cry.

Schlatt is _laughing_ like a fucking maniac, and then Tommy feels himself being pulled to his feet. Schlatt loops one arm around Tommy’s neck, keeping his grip on Tommy's hair, and puts a knife against his throat. Tommy swallows and feels the blade slice into the soft skin of his neck, drawing blood.

“Showtime,” Schlatt says into his ear.

When he starts to drag him away, Tommy looks one last look at Tubbo, who stares back at him with a blank, stony expression, and it fills him with rage, just that deep, burning ache of _betrayal,_ like Eret, but a thousand times worse, and he screams hoarsely, “you’re dead to me, Tubbo, you’re fucking _dead to me!”_

If Tubbo reacts, Tommy doesn’t see it.

He can’t even bring himself to care.

* * *

This is how it goes:

Phil is using the last of the healing potions on Wilbur and Niki, who are scorched and hurt but breathing, alive, and together.

And on the other side of the raging fire, Technoblade is alone.

He’s fighting off three of Schlatt’s soldiers at once, swinging his axe in its vicious double arc, slicing through armor and bashing people easily to the ground. It’s taking considerably more _tact_ than usual, considering Techno isn’t really trying to _kill_ anyone, though when Bad starts aiming for Techno's throat with cruel accuracy, Techno deals him a blow that he thinks might be fatal, if Bad doesn’t get himself healed soon.

He doesn’t have time to think about it, so he doesn’t; he just whirls around and swings for the next person coming up behind him.

Suddenly, there’s a sound that pierces through every other sound. 

It’s a voice screaming, “ _EVERYBODY STOP!”_

The people attacking Techno freeze and turn to look at the source of the voice, as though they've been trained to, and Techno pants for breath, stumbling to a halt. He blinks through the blood and sweat on his face as he sees Schlatt coming through the smoke. Tubbo is trailing behind him.

And a cold bolt of dread goes through Techno's chest when he sees that Schlatt is holding Tommy by his neck, a knife pressed to his throat. Tommy is bleeding and weakened, and he squirms against Schlatt's grasp, choking for breath.

“Back off for a second,” Schlatt snaps at his soldiers. “Let me talk to the man.”

They back away, leaving Schlatt and Techno facing each other.

“Let Tommy go,” Techno calls out, clenching the handle of his axe so tightly his knuckles go white.

“Oh? Who’s gonna make me?”

“I wasn’t plannin’ to kill you,” Techno snarls, “but I will, if you hurt him.”

Schlatt grins and yanks Tommy’s head back a little, just to be cruel, and Techno’s vision starts to go red. 

“What do you want?” Techno grits out.

“Drop your fuckin’ weapon, Technoblade.”

His tone somehow comes across as casual, but the look in Schlatt’s eyes is unmistakable. Techno’s seen it before, many times. Schlatt isn't bluffing.

Tommy twists again against Schlatt’s grip, crying _“no!”,_ but even the small movement pushes the knife against his neck, drawing a line of crimson blood that trickles down his throat.

"We're really doin' this?" Techno asks, his heart pounding in his chest.

"You're too much of a threat, my friend. And besides," Schlatt asks with a vicious smirk, "how could I pass up the chance to be the person who put the Blood God in the ground?"

His meaning thunders in Techno's head and he - he doesn't know what to do.

“I’ll let him go if you do it,” Schlatt says in a sing-song voice, and he digs the handle of his knife a little harder into Tommy’s throat, making him choke. “Promise.”

In the space of a breath, Techno’s eyes meet Tommy’s.

And all Techno can think is – _god._ Tommy’s so young. He’s just a kid. He has the heart of a fucking lion and he’s probably twice as brave as Techno’s ever been, and he’s only _sixteen years old_. He has so much left to do, so much more to become.

Techno can’t let this happen to him. Not right in front of him. Not when he has another choice.

Besides. This is Tommy’s fight.

He needs to be here to win it.

“Let him go first,” Technoblade finally says, fighting to keep his voice steady, and he hears Tommy whine against the knife, “goddammit, _no_ , Techno, _don’t -,”_

Schlatt throws Tommy to the ground, where he collapses, gasping raggedly for air - safe for now, though still within Schlatt's reach.

Techno takes a breath, and then he drops his axe.

Instantly, there are four pairs of hands on him, restraining him. Technoblade fights back, pulls away and gets a punch off, but then his arms are yanked behind him, something slams into his stomach and knocks the breath out of him, and someone kicks the back of his legs and his knees buckle and he hits the ground. He feels someone yank his helmet off and he gasps for air, wrenching away again, but –

But he isn’t a god, he’s just a person. He’s a person and he has four other people forcing him to his knees and dragging him towards Schlatt, who watches him with eyes like sharp pieces of flint.

Schlatt walks up to him and grabs Techno’s tied-back hair, yanking his head back so that Techno has to look him in the face. Techno bares his teeth and Schlatt grins, motioning for one of his soldiers to give him something.

Then he’s holding Techno’s axe.

“Any last words, Technoblade?” Schlatt asks with a gleeful little laugh.

Techno spits to the side. “Not for you.”

“Fair enough.”

The first hit shatters Techno’s chestplate in half, exactly as it was designed, and it falls away from him as easily as if it were made of plastic. Techno feels the impact of the hit rattle through his ribcage.

He looks towards Tommy, who is bleeding but alive, watching with wide, horrified eyes.

 _It’ll be okay,_ he thinks.

The second hit drives into his chest, and Technoblade slumps over the axe and onto the ground.

* * *

Tommy's scream pierces the air, and Wilbur, Niki and Phil jerk their heads towards the sound, which even outdoes the roaring of the flames still consuming the White House. 

Phil races ahead of the other two, who are still limping from their injuries, and the first thing he sees is Tommy - lying bloodied and battered on the ground. 

"Tommy?!" he says, rushing to the boy's side, but Tommy just points ahead of him wordlessly - 

And then Phil freezes as he sees Technoblade, lying in the grass. Schlatt is standing over him, holding a bloodied axe, and he looks back at Phil. 

"You tell Wilbur I'll do this every last one of you, if he doesn't back off," Schlatt breathes, his face almost feral in the light of the burning White House. 

He takes the axe with him, and disappears into the smoke.

And - and Technoblade is slumped over on the ground, bleeding out - 

"Techno," Phil cries, falling to his knees next to him, turning him over and holding him in his lap to look at the wound, and oh, god, it's bad, it's really, really bad.

Techno's chest shakes with a rattling cough. 

"There's still time, Techno, hold on," Phil says frantically. "We'll get you out of L'Manburg, we'll -,"

"They - ah - got me this time, Phil," Techno says faintly. His eyes are bleary. He looks so, so tired. 

"You're gonna be okay," Phil says, pleading more than anything.

"C'mon, man, don't lie to me like th-," he coughs again and there's blood bubbling up from his mouth, staining his lips red. "Heh... that's... hm... not good..."

“Just…” Phil’s throat is closing up – he has to push past it, has to be there for Techno in this moment. “Just relax, Techno, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Techno makes a soft humming noise in his throat. “Thanks, Phil,” he says, his voice growing weaker. He leans a little further towards his friend, and then he rests.

_Technoblade was slain by JSchlatt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..............im so sorry PLS DON'T HATE ME ajskflasj
> 
> i'm also sorry i didn't update for so long, things got really busy in my life and Ah! i'll try my best to update more often, but i'm going into the finale of my other fic (which is my baby) and that one has to take priority for now! so maybe expect weekly updates for the next few weeks. i didn't quite expect this fic to get as much attention as it did or i might not have decided to start it at the same time i was wrapping up another big fic but it's fiiiine 😭
> 
> thank you so much for reading <3


	9. . . .

They find a note in Techno’s pocket.

It seems – too fortuitous to be true. Then again, Wilbur admits, he can’t deny that he has a similar note, folded deep in his jacket’s pocket. Just in case.

They read the note together, and the words echo in Wilbur’s head as the four of them make their way numbly back to the ravine, Wilbur and Phil carrying their fallen brother between them.

It’s only a few sentences long, scrawled in a messy slant, and Wilbur can practically _hear_ Techno’s voice echoing in his head as he stumbles through the forest.

_I don't really believe in last words,_ the note read, _because that means you waited til you were dying to say something you could’ve said while you were alive. Which is stupid._

They dig a grave in the small clearing where they trained. It’s really a nice meadow, all things considered. Wilbur doesn’t think he’d ever be able to step foot in it again, anyway.

Niki is inconsolable, so Wilbur and Phil and Tommy do the digging in silence.

But when they put Techno in the grave, his red cloak wrapped around his shoulders, it’s like something snaps in Tommy, and he starts rambling, the first words he’s spoken since it happened.

He says, “no, no, Wilbur, no, we can’t do this. He can come back, we – we can figure out a way to bring him back. We can’t just _bury_ him, it’s – it’s not _right,_ it isn’t -,”

Wilbur grabs him by the shoulders and forces Tommy to look at him. “He’s gone, Tommy,” Wilbur says, and the words feel like barbs in his mouth, but he needs Tommy to know this in a way that’s true. “He’s not coming back. Not even Schlatt could fix this, now. Not even if he wanted to.”

Tommy’s face falls and he pulls away from Wilbur, wrapping his arms around himself tightly.

_But – call it a premonition or something. Maybe it’s just logic, since we’re headed into a permadeath battle. I dunno. Hopefully, nobody ever has to read this._

They build a little monument over the spot. It’s really just a pile of rocks. Niki places a little bouquet of wildflowers next to it. They’ll make something better, someday. But right now, they’re all drained of every last bit of physical and emotional energy.

Evening has fallen, and the meadow is full of blue light.

“Should we say something?” Phil asks, his voice sort of choked. Wilbur glances at him and sees tears silently tracking down the older man’s face.

They should, but nobody even knows where to start, so they just stand in silence for a moment longer, listening to the bugs whir in the grass and the trees.

Then Niki clears her throat. She’s stopped crying, though her face is still red and puffy.

“I’m really going to miss him,” she says softly, and her eyes well up with tears again. “He was a good friend. I… I can’t believe…” and then she drops her head into her hands and shakes her head, turning around and walking a few paces back.

They give her space as she sniffles.

Phil goes next.

“I knew Techno for a really long time,” he says. “Ages. He was loyal and brave. He was one of the best people I’ve ever known.” It sounds so wrong, talking about him in the past tense, and Phil pauses, as though he can hear the wrongness, as well. “I don’t really know what to say,” he finishes hopelessly. He looks towards Wilbur, a question in his eyes.

Wilbur's always been the best with words, and this is a moment where the right words are needed.

He takes a deep breath, and uses the moment to gather his thoughts.

_If I don’t come back, it’s worth saying that the bunch of you are the only real family I've ever had. I need you to know that I don’t regret a thing. If there’s anything worth dying for, it’s you guys. Alright?_

“Technoblade died in the only way I think he’d ever want to,” Wilbur says, and the others turn to look at him. “He died in combat, but he wasn’t bested. He was _never_ bested. He died protecting the people he loved. That is the noblest death of them all. And probably the only death worthy of him.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Wilbur sees Tommy’s shoulders start to shake.

“Techno lived enough for fifty regular lives in his one,” Wilbur says. “He never backed down from a challenge, and he never gave up. His legacy will continue on, in the memory of everyone who ever met him. And especially in ours.

“Even though Techno wasn't always the best at showing it, I know he loved us,” Wilbur continues, fighting to keep his voice strong. “And we loved him. We were his family, and we always will be.”

They’re all crying, now. Looking at the little stone marker. Standing shoulder to shoulder.

Wilbur looks at Tommy, but the younger boy just looks wrecked. His eyes are bloodshot, his head wound still bleeding. He inhales sharply and looks at Wilbur, and then he just shakes his head.

Wilbur puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Tommy.”

“No, it’s not,” Tommy says roughly. “It’s _not, it’s not -,”_

He starts to break down, and Wilbur tries to wrap him up in a hug but Tommy pushes him away, crying, “no, just – just leave me alone, please, Wilbur, just… leave me alone.”

Wilbur hesitates, but when he looks back at Phil, Phil nods and tilts his head back towards the ravine. The silent message: _he needs space._

“We’ll be at the camp, okay, Tommy?” Wilbur says, and Tommy jerks his head in acknowledgement.

_But, if you are reading this. Will you do me a favor?_

When Wilbur gets to the edge of the clearing, he pauses as Phil and Niki go on ahead. He turns and sees Tommy fall to his knees in front of the grave marker.

“I’m sorry, Technoblade,” Tommy cries, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry I wasn’t – I wasn’t strong enough to stop him. I know - I - I don’t deserve what you did.”

He drops his head for a moment. And when he lifts it, his voice is stronger. There’s a fire behind it that Wilbur hasn’t heard from Tommy in a long time. Maybe ever.

Tommy says, “I swear to you, Techno. _I’m going to make this right_.”

_You go fuck up the son of a bitch who got me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me last chapter: don't expect another chapter for a week  
> me literally twelve hours later: 🤡  
> short, but had to write it while the last chapter was fresh.  
> as always thank you for reading <3


	10. i think i'd better go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay wilbur, swooping in with this villain arc and blowing my shit out of the water, i see you  
> (totally jk but - i won't be incorporating villain wilbur into this fic since it has a pretty established alternate plotline by now, just figured i'd say so!) 
> 
> TW: this chapter has some pretty negative self-image descriptions - i thought i'd mention that in case that's a trigger for anyone. pls take care of yourself! <3

The next few days, and then a week, pass in a haze.

Tommy’s simmer grows steadily into a boil.

“Enough,” he says one day, and he pushes his chair back from the dinner table, getting to his feet.

Wilbur, Phil, and Niki look at him wearily.

“Enough,” he says again. “I’m done moping. I’m done sitting around here being useless. What’s our plan? What’s our next move?”

Wilbur drops his plate. He looks exhausted. “There is no plan, Tommy,” he says in a low monotone. “There is no next move.”

“What do you mean?” Tommy demands, his hands trembling at his sides. “We’re just not just giving up - we're not just letting Schlatt win!”

“What else can we do?” Wilbur asks. “You want us to rush in again, this time _without_ Techno, so Schlatt can kill someone else?”

“He won’t get to, if we’re smart enough. Come on, Wilbur, this is -,”

“I said _no,”_ Wilbur shouts, and Tommy snaps his mouth shut. “Tommy, this battle just proved Schlatt isn’t bluffing. It proved we have no allies left in Manburg. And it proved that we can’t win. We just can’t. I am not losing another person to permadeath.”

“But we’ve already lost – we’ve already lost so much,” Tommy says. “We can’t just stop now – we can’t just let it all go to waste!”

“Sunk cost fallacy, Tommy,” Wilbur says.

“Oh, shut up, Wilbur,” Tommy snaps. Rage at this – at them, at how they’re just sitting there silently – bubbles over and pours out of him. “You know what Techno would be doing right now, if any of us had died? He’d be going fucking mental, finding some kind of third dimensional armor better than Netherite so he could go in and wipe out every one of those bastards. And what are we doing? We’re just sitting here, eating our fucking dinner, like _cowards,_ like a bunch of -,”

“That’s enough,” Wilbur says, standing and towering over him.

Tommy doesn’t back down, and glowers as he says, “you’re just going to ignore what Techno asked us to do, then, Wilbur? You’re just going to let his death be for _nothing?”_

He sees Niki flinch; Phil’s face goes clouded, and Wilbur clenches his jaw.

“Techno didn’t die for L’Manburg,” Wilbur says quietly. “He died for _you,_ Tommy. Remember? And if you throw yourself into another battle like an idiot and get yourself killed, then you’re right. His death _will_ have been for nothing.”

Wilbur might as well have physically slapped Tommy across the face. He takes one step back, and then another, his eyes going wide and face burning.

Wilbur seems to realize he’s made a mistake, and he winces, his hand reaching out. “Tommy, wait -,”

“Fuck you,” Tommy hisses, tears suddenly blinding his vision, “fuck all of you,” and he turns and runs.

He hears Phil calling for him but he doesn’t care, doesn’t slow down as he scrambles up the side of the ravine. He just runs and runs through the forest, crashing through bushes, feeling thorns and branches scratch at his arms and he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care.

He _knows_ Technoblade’s death was his fault, Wilbur didn’t need to remind him, he _knows_ that he’s to blame, and – and how can he be expected to live with that? How can they expect him to chin up and go – go live some stupid, peaceful life somewhere? _Pretending_ like it isn't his fault that his friend, his idol, his _brother_ is dead? If Tommy had just been stronger, if he had been better, if he had been smarter, more patient, like Techno had told him --

Tommy grits his teeth and speeds up, as though if he runs fast enough, he’ll be able to escape these thoughts.

He keeps going until the burning in his legs and lungs is too much to take, and then he stops suddenly, wobbling on his feet. He’s somewhere far away from the ravine, now. A mountain is rising up in front of him – there’s an ocean, he thinks, to his right.

Tommy heaves for air. He collapses on the ground and pulls his knees to his chest, hugging his legs tightly. He stares blankly off into space, his mind spinning like a hamster wheel: his thoughts go a hundred miles an hour, yet they’re running in circles, coming back to the same thought, the same fixation, over and over.

He needs to do right by Technoblade. He needs to get revenge. He doesn’t care how short-sighted or dangerous or fruitless it is, he doesn’t care if it won’t fix anything, if it won’t fix _him,_ or whatever other bullshit well-adjusted people like to say about revenge: he doesn’t care. He doesn’t.

He needs to put an axe in Schlatt’s head, and he needs to do it _soon._

“Tommy,” somebody says behind him.

Tommy practically jumps out of his skin. He leaps to his feet and whirls around, and when he sees who’s coming out of the trees, he’s not sure in which direction he should be running.

“Dream?”

* * *

The new White House stands tall and imposing over the landscape of Manburg. With the old, wooden version burnt to the ground, Schlatt demanded each citizen drop their usual work to rebuild a new, better monument, one made of stone and quartz pillars. The new White House is twice as large as the old one and twice as intimidating, and it's only the first of Manburg's new expansion efforts; Schlatt is already starting to move the border, little by little, intruding into the borders of the Dream SMP. With every parcel of land he takes unchallenged, his arrogance grows a little larger. His moves are becoming riskier, more ambitious. The imposing silhouette of the White House is a fitting tribute.

Tubbo is walking towards it, now, as the sunset casts orange light and long shadows over Manburg, bracing himself in the face of the White House's intimidating affect. He’s about to do something he’s been thinking about, nonstop, since the battle; since Tommy’s words rang in his ears and never settled; since the image of Schlatt driving an axe into Technoblade’s chest had burned itself into the back of his eyelids permanently. He has his sword with him, and his shield, in case he needs them, but most of all he has resolve – resolve he hasn’t felt for far too long.

When he walks through the door of Schlatt’s new office, he sees Schlatt talking to Fundy. Schlatt is sitting at his chair behind his large, dark oak desk; the room is carpeted, but the walls are bare and cold, except for the wall behind Schlatt. There, Technoblade’s double-bladed Netherite axe hangs mounted, like a trophy, sending an awful shiver down Tubbo’s spine.

When they notice him, the two others stop talking, and Schlatt waves Fundy away. 

“What can I do for ya, Tubbo?” the president asks, turning in his chair to face him. He's in a good mood, today, it seems.

Tubbo draws himself up. “I’m here to tell you that I’m leaving.”

Schlatt purses his lips and taps his fingertips together a few times. “Really.”

“Yes. Tonight. Well, now, actually,” Tubbo fumbles, then shuts himself up.

Schlatt sighs and crosses his arms, and Tubbo braces himself for some kind of outburst, but it doesn’t come. “Well, alright, then. See you around.”

This – this is more shocking to Tubbo than any amount of screaming or threat-making could have been, and he can’t stop himself from asking, “you’re… you’re not angry?”

Schlatt shrugs. “I mean, I’m disappointed, sure, but I’m not gonna stop you. I never said you couldn’t leave, did I?”

“No,” Tubbo says hesitantly, thinking, _not technically._

“Of course I didn't. You’re not a _slave,_ Tubbo. You can leave if you want, of course you can. I guess I just never pegged you as a lone wolf typa guy.”

This gives Tubbo pause. “Well, I won’t be alone.”

“Oh?” Schlatt asks, raising an eyebrow. “Who do you have to go to?”

“I’m going to join Tommy and Wilbur,” Tubbo says, because he wants Schlatt to understand exactly what’s happening. “I’m going to help them.”

But even this doesn’t get a rise out of him. He just looks at Tubbo with a flat, uninterested expression. “No, you’re not.”

Tubbo starts. “Wh – what do you mean? Yes, I am!”

“Tubbo,” Schlatt says with a sigh, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk, “do you really think those guys are going to let you back in their little circus troupe? After everything you’ve done?”

And Tubbo can’t lie that he’s asked himself the same question, but it sounds different coming from Schlatt, with that pitying, all-knowing tone. “They will,” he says firmly, giving Schlatt the same answer he’s given himself. “I know they will.”

What he doesn’t say is, _they have to. They’re my family, and I’ll apologize, and they’ll have to forgive me eventually. Even if I have to apologize a thousand times, even it takes days or weeks or months. They will. I know it._

Schlatt seems unconvinced. He says, “well, Tubbo, I wish you the best of luck. Honestly, I do. But, hey. If you change your mind… you have a place in Manburg. You know that.”

The words disturb Tubbo. He doesn’t _want_ a place in Manburg – that’s what he’s trying to _say._

But he has to admit that this – this weird, soft side of Schlatt that comes out sometimes, usually before he does something horrible – is better than the version of Schlatt who would have him immediately thrown in prison for even suggesting defection.

So Tubbo takes the out where he sees it. He turns around and leaves the office, jogging down the steps and out of the White House, heading for the forest, where he’s seen Wilbur and Tommy appear a number of times before. The sun is nearly set by now. It doesn’t matter. He’ll search through the night. He’ll search until he can find them and make things right.

As he goes, he tries to ignore the feeling prickling at the back of his neck – like Schlatt is watching him go the whole way there. And he doesn't look back. Not even once.

* * *

Dream and Tommy stand silently across from each other for a long moment.

The masked man looks like he hasn’t changed at all since Tommy last saw him, which – which was a while ago, actually, now that he thinks about it. He has his green hoodie pulled over his head, as usual, his hands in loose fists at his side; he’s standing casually, though from experience, Tommy knows he could be at his throat in a heartbeat.

“You’re looking nice and pretentious, as always,” Tommy says.

Dream inclines his head ever-so-slightly. “You look like shit.”

Tommy barks a short laugh. “Yeah, well.”

The wind whistles softly past them. Tommy’s heart is beating steadily in his ears. He doesn’t know where he stands with Dream. He doesn’t actually know what’s happening, right now.

“What do you want, Dream?” he finally asks.

“I heard about Technoblade.”

It still sends a stab through Tommy’s chest, strong enough to take his breath away for a moment. “If you’re here to rub it in, I hate to tell you,” he says hoarsely, “but I’ve basically got the _make-Tommy-feel-like-shit_ market cornered. Along with everyone else on the planet.”

Dream shakes his head. “I’m not here to do that. I was sad to hear about Techno.”

Tommy furrows his brow. “Thought you two hated each other.”

“We didn’t,” Dream says sharply.

Tommy crosses his arms.

“Techno was a good person, and an honorable one. He didn’t deserve permadeath,” Dream says. “I don’t know who Schlatt thinks he is, but turning off respawns is completely insane.”

“Yeah, well, he _is_ insane,” Tommy says. “You’d know that if you had been around, like, at all, the past few months.”

Tommy hates how the mask stops him from reading Dream’s expressions, as the man just says, “I’ve been busy.”

“Ah," Tommy says sarcastically. "Very mysterious and cool.”

“You're changing the subject. How did Wilbur let this happen?”

That pisses Tommy off. “Maybe you should go play twenty questions with your good friend George-Not-Found. You know he was part of the little posse that put Schlatt into power in the first place, don't you? Hm?”

Dream’s mouth kind of twists. “George is…” he breaks off and shifts to the side. “George doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Tommy snorts. “Okay.”

“Look, none of this is important,” Dream says, waving his hand dismissively. “Tommy, we’ve had plenty of disagreements, but this is one thing we’re on _exactly_ the same page about. Schlatt has got to go. He’s breaking the treaties, he’s turning off respawns – he’s endangering _everyone_. And basically, I’m here to offer help. If you guys are going to act against Schlatt, I’m with you.”

That is… not what Tommy was expecting. But it doesn’t quite give him the same adrenaline boost it might have a week ago.

“Wilbur won’t do anything,” he mutters, kicking at the ground. “He’s too scared of permadeath. He doesn’t want to lose anybody else.”

Dream makes a humming sound. “Okay… that’s what Wilbur’s going to do. What are _you_ going to do?”

Tommy hesitates, looking up at Dream. That strange, pale mask stares back.

“Sometimes, Tommy,” Dream says, “you have to be willing to act as your own person. Even if other people disagree with you. Even if they hate you. You have to be able to do what _you_ want.”

Tommy hears his blood rushing in his ears.

“I want Schlatt dead,” he says.

Dream grins. It sends a chill down Tommy’s spine. “ _That_ I can work with.”

He walks towards Tommy and hands him a piece of paper. When Tommy looks down at it, he sees a set of coordinates.

“I’m gonna leave you some stuff there,” Dream says. “Keep it secret. And meet me there in two days, at sunrise.”

Tommy nods in understanding, and then he laughs shortly, making a _tsk_ ing sound. “TommyInnit and the green bastard teaming up, who would have thought,” he says dryly.

“Watch it, or I’ll reconsider,” Dream says, but Tommy catches him hiding a little smile. 

When Tommy gets back to the ravine, night has fallen, but he can see that someone is still awake, evidenced by the smoke rising from the still-lit campfire. He’s not eager to talk to anybody down there, so instead, he wanders away, finding himself retracing the path to Techno’s meadow that’s practically been worn into the grass by now. He doesn’t fight it, following his steps automatically until he’s sitting, legs folded, in front of the shitty little stone monument they made.

“Promise, Techno,” he finds himself mumbling as he stares down at the little piece of paper, committing the coordinates to heart. “I’m gonna make him pay.” 

* * *

It’s cold outside, but Tubbo hardly notices. He’s been cold for a long time, a kind of constant chill that hasn’t left no matter how many blankets he wraps around himself, sitting in his empty house.

He forges on, through the wilderness. He thinks about what it will be like, sitting around a fire with Wilbur and Tommy – with Niki, who he’ll apologize to a hundred times, and with Phil, who Tubbo doesn’t know all that well, but wants to know better. He thinks about giving Tommy a hug, he thinks about explaining everything to Wilbur. He thinks about how things used to be, when they would huddle together and tell stories at night, and his chest aches, and he goes a little faster.

He’s stumbling through a birch forest when he suddenly breaks into a little clearing and stops cold.

There’s somebody here. They’re sitting on the ground, their legs crossed, facing a little pile of stones. Tubbo squints in the darkness, trying to make out who it is, but – whoever it is, they hear them, and he sees their head whip around.

“Dream?” he hears someone whisper, and oh – _oh._

“Tommy?” Tubbo says, coming closer, and sees Tommy go rigid. “Tommy, it’s me.”

Suddenly, Tommy is on his feet, and before Tubbo can quite process what’s happening, he has a sword at his side, glowing softly in the darkness.

Tubbo and Tommy stand frozen across from each other for a moment, staring at each other with wide eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Tommy asks, his voice rough.

Tubbo takes a deep breath. “I left Manburg, Tommy,” he says. “I couldn’t take it anymore. Everything had gone all wrong, and – and I’m so sorry. I really can’t tell you how sorry I am. I – I just want to come back. I want to make things right, with you. With everyone.”

Tommy doesn’t move. Not an inch. And he doesn’t speak.

Tubbo’s not sure what to do. “I… Tommy, I know I messed up.”

“That doesn’t quite cover it, Tubbo,” Tommy says, and – and the pure rage in his voice makes Tubbo’s heart sink like a stone.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, hearing his voice waver. “I – I’m sorry about Techno -,”

“You don’t get to just _say sorry_ , Tubbo,” Tommy suddenly explodes, taking a few long strides towards him, so that Tubbo takes an instinctive step back, away from his blade. “You – you helped Schlatt _kill him!_ You think you can just show up here and apologize, and – and everything will be okay?”

Tubbo’s face falls, and he holds his hands up in the air, shaking his head. “I – Tommy, I’m _sorry_.”

“Stop saying that,” Tommy shouts.

“I don’t know what else to say,” Tubbo cries. “Everything’s been – Schlatt got in my head, Tommy, I’m telling you. He -,”

“No, Tubbo,” Tommy says through gritted teeth. “I know you. You’re smart. You didn’t do anything you didn’t want to do.”

Tubbo opens his mouth, but can’t find the words. Tommy’s _wrong,_ he knows he’s wrong, yet Tubbo can’t find the defense, can’t explain why. It's all slipping just out of reach.

“I have one question for you,” Tommy says, his voice suddenly hoarse. “Did you know he was gonna kill Technoblade?”

Tubbo’s blood runs cold. “I – Tommy,” he pleads, and that's enough to confirm the answer for Tommy, who shakes his head, his jaw clenched. “He – he said it was the only way to leave you alive. I – I was trying to _protect_ you.” 

“Oh, and you think you did me a favor?” Tommy cries, his eyes suddenly filling up with tears. “I wish it _had_ been me, I wish Schlatt _had_ killed me, instead of making me sit there and watch him kill Techno right in front of me like a goddamn execution! Do – do you even understand how much that is fucking with my head?” 

“I -,” 

“Stop. Stop talking,” Tommy snaps, and now he’s hoisting his sword up, pointing it right at him. “You made your choice, Tubbo. Now get the fuck out.”

Tubbo’s breath catches in his throat. No, he can’t go back, and he can't be all alone, no, no –

“Let me talk to Wilbur,” he begs.

“No.”

“Please, Tommy -,”

_“Leave!”_

“Techno would have killed us all, anyway, if Schlatt hadn’t -,”

Tommy lunges forward, and suddenly the two of them are staring at each other, face-to-face, their eyes both wide in shock, Tommy’s sword stabbed straight through Tubbo’s heart.

And it –

It _hurts,_ like dying always hurts, Tubbo chokes on it as it _scalds_ through him, the blade sharp in his chest.

He slumps forward and falls into that endless dark place, falling further and further away from his body.

As he looks up, he sees Tommy staring down at him, his face pale.

But Tommy doesn’t say anything. He doesn't look regretful, or sad, or - _anything._ He just pulls his sword back and walks away, an awful coldness in his eyes.

_Tubbo_ was slain by TommyInnit._

Tubbo wakes up in Manburg, jolting up in his bed and ripping air into his lungs, and he immediately gives a little cry because oh, god, he respawned, he – he wasn’t sure if he was going to respawn but – he did, he’s alive, he –

He folds over himself and starts to sob, a full-throated, wrenching cry, tears spilling from his eyes, because Schlatt was right, Schlatt was right. He doesn’t have a place there, he never will again, he – he’s alone now, forever, and for good –

Except he’s not alone, because as he realizes, quickly, and with a terrified start, there’s someone in the room with him.

It’s Schlatt, who’s sitting in a chair at the opposite end of the room, staring at him with a smug little smile.

“How -,” Tubbo gasps, “how did you know -,”

“I had a hunch,” Schlatt says, rising to his feet. Before he leaves the room, he reaches out and musses Tubbo’s hair, but the touch isn’t comforting – it makes him feel cold, like a trickle of water starting at his head and flowing down.

“Welcome back, kiddo.” 

* * *

Tubbo disappears, and Tommy is left with a bloodied sword and a numbness that spreads faster and faster with every second.

He stumbles back to the ravine, where he finds Wilbur sitting, heavy-lidded, at the campfire. He realizes Wilbur must have been waiting for him to come back, and in that moment, he’s grateful, because all he can do is break down, break down and let Wilbur wrap him in a hug, even though he feels, really, he doesn’t deserve to be comforted – doesn’t deserve to have Wilbur stroke the back of his head and try to make him feel better. But he lets Wilbur do it anyway, because he’s selfish.

Wilbur must have seen the message about Tubbo, but he doesn't bring it up. He doesn't say anything, really. He just lets Tommy sniffle into his shoulder and say whatever he needs to say.

“I wish it had been me, Wilbur,” he whispers, because saying it to Tubbo had made it real, and it scares him. “I wish it had been me, instead.”

“No, Tommy,” Wilbur just says softly, resting his chin on the top of Tommy’s head. “You can't think like that. Techno was smart, he knew what he was doing.”

“He could have h- helped – and I’m -,”

“He knew what he was doing,” Wilbur says again, firmly. He pulls Tommy back so he can look him in the eyes. “You were _so_ important to him, Tommy. You’re important to all of us. I need you to know that. Okay? I – I don’t know what we would do here without you.”

This, of course, only manages to make Tommy feel worse, but he can’t bring himself to say that to Wilbur. He just leans his head back onto his older brother’s shoulder and stares into the fire.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault, Tommy, _nothing._ ”

But he’s wrong, Tommy thinks. He’s wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ouf
> 
> okay - i've been going preeeettty hard with the angst here and i feel like it's worth saying: there will be resolution in this story, it's not going to end on just a million awful sad notes! promise.
> 
> thanks for reading, and thanks for all your lovely comments on the last few chapters. <3

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!! and feel free to [follow me on tumblr,](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/aenqa) if ya feel like it!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The trial of Tubbo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669413) by [EfoxKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EfoxKitty/pseuds/EfoxKitty)




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